#this whole scene from the moment he walks into the hall is golden

[eraenaa]

Please Please Please (Modern AU)

Inspired by the song Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Politician Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Heartbreak is one thing; my ego’s another. I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker.

Warnings: Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Choking, Fingering, ¿Semi-Public Relations?, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 1,969

A/N: Quick little fic bc the music gods blessed us with new pop anthems <3

The lion’s pride. As a Lannister, you and the whole of your family had a great deal of it. Great lengths are made to maintain it, especially when you are pitted in the arena of the public eye. Every decision you made was calculated, and every action has a reaction that you meticulously premeditated. Nothing less than perfect and respectable could be accepted. Sensibilities must always be in check, but after meeting him, it seemed to fall out of your head. 

Aemond Targaryen. An up-and-coming figure in the scene of politics. A second son of the infamous family of the Targaryens. A waving red flag you had ignored, for you were too distracted by every other aspect of him. 

You remember the day you met him fondly. You were forced to attend a gala. Your family needed to push a figure of unity for the upcoming election; in consequence, you had to participate in endless events pitting you in the eye of the public. You were standing next to your father as he introduced you to other influential members of his party when, from the side of your eye, you caught a figure walking into the event hall, dressed in all black, striding and making his way through the crowds effortlessly. You were stood a few leagues away from him, but you already felt this aura of confidence that strode dangerously close to arrogance. You barely caught a clear glimpse of him, but there was this domineering and authoritarian presence in him that was needed in leaders that had solidified your attraction. 

Aemond has had his eye on you for quite some time now. The golden girl, they liked to call you—the celebrated daughter of House Lannister, the girl who was perfect on paper. Everything you had done in your life had only added to the pride and good standing of your family, and Aemond could not help but be intrigued. He strode into the room, always catching everyone’s attention, but yours was the only one he sought for. When he finally caught your eyes from across the room, he inwardly smirked to himself and strode to where you stood with your father. “Ah, Aemond,” Your father greeted the other member of his party with civility. “Sir Lannister,” You hear him greet, and you clenched your jaw as you hear the deep, velvety tone of his voice. “This is my daughter; I don’t believe you two have been introduced yet,” Your father said, and you turned your full attention to him. Aemond led out his hand for you to shake, and he felt a chill run down his spine as your hands clasped around each other. 

“Nice to meet you,” You said with a small smile. The same smile was reserved for when you met your father’s other colleagues. You hear him hum and watch as he gives a nod, reserved and quiet, an exact depiction of what you read of him. You stood there quietly for a few moments as they talked of business, trying to ignore the eye that had been entranced by you. When there was a pause in their conversation, you excused yourself and headed towards the bar on the side of the room to refresh your drink, a figure closely following behind you. 

Things were quick to escalate from there from only having to be formally introduced to Aemond mere moments ago to him and you engaging in juvenile activities in a nearby coat closet. There was a lapse in your judgment as you engaged in such activities. Letting your lips dance with your father’s colleague, letting his solid and cold hands roam your body, not at all cautious that with just one swing of the door, you two would succumb to scandal. 

“Aemond,” You called as you gripped his long, silvery locks. His lips were too preoccupied with peppering kisses on your neck and collarbone to respond. You feel his hand inch higher towards your bosom, placing it flat as he palmed your tit. “Who knew their golden girl could be so… lewd?” Amend hummed, and you rolled your eyes as you hated that nickname. “You’ve only just met me, but you had no hesitation as I led you here,” He mused and nipped your skin, not at all wary that it would leave a mark. “Are you complaining?” You asked breathlessly, staring at his sapphire-colored eye. You feel your core tighten as a devilish smirk rose to his lips. “No,” he replied and kissed your lips once more. 

It did not take long after that encounter before you two were noted to be entirely fond of one another. 

There were great reservations. Your older brother taking the lead to voice it on behalf of your family. “Wh—why him? You are aware of his… demeanor?” You pursed your lips. “I am, and he is not as rash and cold as you think,” You defended. “But why did you have to choose someone from father’s party— it is a complete conflict of interest.” You rolled your eyes, “How is it a conflict of interest? For it to be a conflict of interest, it has to be with someone from the opposing party, does it not?” You countered. Your brother shook his head disapprovingly, “He is from the opposing party. Father is not completely sold on his allegiance. He still thinks your little boyfriend’s decision to join our side is a shallow rebellion against his family’s— nothing but a ploy!” Your brother almost screamed, and you stayed quiet as your calculating and cautious self had overlooked the possibility.

That thought bothered you tremendously, and it was noticeable. Aemond frowned as he placed kisses on the valley of your breast, and his hand was threading closer to your cunt, but no reaction came from you. “Are you well?” He asked as he pulled away, placing a small gap between your bodies. Your back was rested on the headboard of his bed, your mind was far off, and you could not even enjoy his pleasurable actions. You stared into his eye and licked your lips. “What’s your plan?” You suddenly asked, and you watched as his face folded in confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked and sat straight before you, his cold hand placed on your warm thigh. 

“Why did you suddenly join my father’s party? For decades, our families have been known for their opposing views… why then did you suddenly join?” You asked and watched as his lips thinned. “If you wanted political and career advancements, it would make more sense if you stayed in your family’s party. Why then do you join ours when you would have to start all over again?” You asked in doubt, fearing that it was indeed all a ploy and the relations between you were just another part of it. That in the end, whatever you do will not only end in heartbreak but worse, your reputation will be tarnished. Aemond was silent, and that put further skepticism in you. Your mind conjures up future scenes where the public will come to know that your relationship was filled with deceit, his way to slither into your father’s political party— subjecting you and your family to embarrassment as you had been seduced by him and his lies. 

“It’s true that if I had stayed with my family’s party, my career would have advanced greatly. But it is a dead end.” You frowned at his words, trying not to be distracted by the day his hand would caress your skin. “It is a lost cost. I had never believed and aligned myself with their political beliefs and values; having to run and represent things I don’t believe in is, for me, practically career suicide,” You pursed your lips and assessed his eye, trying to find sincerity in him. People often say that he was a good actor, keeping his dealings and reactions to himself so no one could use them against him. 

Aemond could not help but smirk as you stared him down, his hand on your thigh inching higher as you did your calculations. “Why? Did you think I was using you?” He asked quietly. His eye darkened when you bit your lip and slowly nodded, a bit wounded that you would think as such. However, he could not honestly blame you because if he were in your position, he would also be skeptical about himself. You parted your lips to speak, but words died on your tongue as you felt Aemond cup your cunt. 

“They always said you were a fast learner… so best to engrave this in your pretty little head,” Aemond hummed as his lips threaded closer to yours, his fingers gliding against your folds, a whimper escaping your lips. “I’m not with you for political advancements… I’m with you simply because I want you, you alone.” He swore and intertwined your lips, swallowing your moan as he slipped his finger inside. Aemond smirked as you parted your lips, needing air as he curled the digit, feeling your cunt clench around him tightly. 

You clung to Aemond’s neck as he dipped down and captured the taut bud of your tit into his mouth, his teeth nibbling your skin, making you whimper. Aemond added another finger as he felt your grind your cunt against his hand in want of more; his thumb lay flat on your nubbin and drew circles, your moans echoing through the room. “More… Aemond— please, please, please, I want more,” You moaned. His fingers were pleasurable, but your body needed the whole of him. You hear him hum and watch him through glazed eyes as he removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips as he cleans your essence. “You want more?” He asked, and you nodded fervently, bordering on desperation. “Then who am I to deny?” He smirked as he switched your positions, him resting his back on the headboard and you straddling his waist. 

Your head tilted back, and your jaw went slack as his cock slipped inside you, sheathing itself perfectly in your cunt, the tip of it hitting the spongey spot that made you lost and unaware of your surrounding. The place that made all sensibilities fly out of the window and make your judgment muddled. “So pretty…” Aemond praised breathlessly, watching as you bounced his cock. Your tits heaving against him, your lips parted as you spewed out your moans. Aemond placed his hands on your hips and guided you, his thrust deep and harsh, just as you liked it. 

Aemond felt you take hold of one of his hands, guiding it toward your throat, and he groaned out in pleasure as you urged him to choke you. Your cunt clenching painfully and pleasurably around his length as he did your request. You moaned as you felt the cool metal of his ring imprint itself on your throat. You were close, and your desperate movements hinted that to Aemond. “Is my pretty girl going to come?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth, his own release coming quickly as well. “Aemond… god, Aemond!” You called as you came undone, your body hunching over his, and he sought out your lips, kissing them as he spilled himself deep inside your cunt. 

You breathed heavily, your mind trying to regain focus, but it was difficult as Aemond drew soothing circles on your skin as you came down from your high. “Do me a favor?” You asked breathlessly, Aemond’s cock still deep inside you and the flaccid length growing stiffer by the moment. “Anything,” He answered and tried to capture your lips, but you swiftly backed away. “Don’t fucking embarrass me,” You said in seriousness, and Aemond smirked at your words. “Never.” He swore and sealed his oath with a kiss.

Tag List

[lizardkingeliot]

Congrats on your freedom from the mess!

I'm having a craving to read a scene where Louis is defending Lestat to someone. I'm not particular about the context but I hope that we'll get some "that's my husband and only I can talk shit about him" energy from Louis in the show too. But I'd settle for a few hundred words from you! ❤️

Okay. So. When I started writing this I challenged myself to keep it under 500 words and... lmao. Well. It ended up being almost 1500. Because of course. But ANYWAY I hope you're here for some Rockstar Lestat and Photographer Louis because that's what this ended up being. The urge to turn this into a longer fic is STRONG but I'm resisting for now. After I finish my current wip I might come back to it and fill it out and pop it up on AO3. IDK... we'll see lol.

Anyway I'm sticking most of this under a cut. Thank you for this lovely prompt and I hope you enjoy it!

—

Louis emerged from the dressing room first. Leaned against the wall outside the door and started fiddling with his camera. Checking over the pictures he’d taken just moments ago. Lestat—a ring of vanity lights like a halo around the mirror behind him. Lestat—purple leather pants, lime green crop top, the word Slut scrawled in sparkly cursive on the chest. Lestat—golden hair gleaming in the artificial light. Eyes on the camera, on Louis where he stood a safe distance away beyond the lens. Pink mouth slightly parted just so, just so…

Lestat walked out not a minute after Louis and was instantly surrounded by a horde of people. His tour manager, his agent, Daniel Molloy, a handful of nondescript faces attached to bodies Louis didn’t know. Lestat scowled and waved them all away from him at once, muttering his annoyance under his breath in French.

Lestat’s whole body swayed as he walked. Pants sitting low on his hips. Hips like weapons, swell of his ass like a homing beacon. And Louis almost forced himself to look away when Lestat stopped, and turned back. And met Louis’ gaze across the distance. His eyes lined in smudgy black lighting up in exactly the way they’d been when Louis viewed him through the lens of his camera moments ago. Mouth quirking up in a secret smile meant for Louis and Louis alone.

Louis smiled back, couldn’t help it. Stomach doing some truly impressive acrobatics when Lestat turned away and disappeared in the direction of the stage. He was grateful for the wall for reminding his body to stay upright. He forced a breath, was just about to turn his eyes back to his camera when the muffled conversation two roadies were having over by the loading bay invaded his senses.

“Did you see what he’s wearing now?” Roadie Number One asked with a self-satisfied little laugh. The sound of it was instantly grating. It was such a pompously human sound. “For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Like I said before,” Roadie Number Two offered in a casual, gravelly tone. One hand on a flight case, the other fiddling with the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. “The whole fruit basket, that one. Talk about shoving it in your face.”

Louis tipped his head to one side. Watched them both with big unblinking eyes as they started moving down the hall in the direction of the stage. His pulse beating slow and steady inside him. Moving the blood through his veins at a calculating, almost predatory pace.

—

After the show, backstage was the usual chaos. A sea of people and their sounds. Lestat’s team, his band, his groupies. Equipment being rushed back out the way it had come in. And though Louis had been standing just off stage and watched with his own two eyes as Lestat made his exit following his second encore. Had snapped one final picture in the split second before Lestat passed by and their hands—very intentionally, on Lestat’s part at least—brushed together. Suddenly, Lestat was nowhere to be found.

Louis screwed the lens from his camera, tucked everything away in his case and slung the strap over his shoulder. The moment he lifted his head, he saw them. Roadie One and Roadie Two. And hunger grumbled deep inside him. And it dawned on Louis all at once that he’d been so busy tonight he hadn’t actually fed.

He could have just let it go. He should have. Human beings—what did they matter? But Lestat wasn’t around and the thought that he was off with some groupie getting his dick wet pissed him off just enough for the hunger to spur him forward. He moved without even thinking to, and in a blink he was standing in front of Roadie Number Two. Crowding him against the flight case he’d been hauling. So close their noses nearly touched.

“Hello,” Louis said. Roadie Two’s eyes went wide as two big moons. “I have a question for you—”

“Hey, man, what the f—”

Louis choked off the man’s voice with a thought at once. Vampiric power working like a hand around his throat.

“Don’t be rude when your elders are speaking.” Louis took a single calculated step back. Roadie Two was trembling in his black jeans. Louis didn’t even have to hold him in place. Frozen with terror, the man couldn’t move. And Louis grinned. “Now—my question. And I do think you of all people can help me with this one.”

Louis listened to the tangle of thoughts in his head. A litany of curses. An endless slew of fear and dark and what the fuck what the fuck. People were rushing all around them. Louis thought, distantly—maybe—that Daniel was saying his name.

“Do you happen to know where I might find a fruit basket in this city?”

Louis laughed, a dark and wobbling sound. The hunger had him by the belly. He had to fight against his fangs to keep them from popping out.

There were tears in Roadie Two’s wide moon eyes that didn’t blink. He found the strength to reach up with one hand and paw uselessly at his own throat. Thick rasping sounds falling out of it as he fought against the Dark Gift’s suppression of his breath.

Louis laughed again.

“Yeah,” Louis said, and tipped his head to one side. And watched the artery throb with blood on the side of the roadie’s thick neck. “That’s what I thought. Not so easy to get those smartass words of yours out now, is it? You know, next time maybe you should try sayin’ that shit to—”

“Louis.”

Lestat. Behind him. Heartbeat like a siren. Warm, gushing sound of life like a song inside his veins. Louis’ mind stumbled over itself for a fraction of a second and he lost his hold on Roadie Two’s throat. And the man crumbled down to his knees in a coughing fit in an instant.

“Louis,” Lestat said again. And Louis spun around. And—

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth. Golden hair skimming bare shoulders. At some point between the stage and right then, Lestat had lost his shirt.

“Lestat.” Louis straightened his neck, gripped the strap of his camera case just to have something to hold onto. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he knew Lestat could hear it. “Hey, uh, so—”

“Cheri, I know you’re hungry, but I believe it would be ill-advised to eat the roadies.”

Louis drew a breath, huffed it out, distantly aware that Roadie Two was half-crawling, half-running away behind him. “Wasn’t gonna eat him. Just—” He huffed another breath. “And please don’t call me—”

“You were sticking up for me.”

Smudged eyeliner. Blue eyes shining in those messy rings of black. Louis’ heartbeat was a kick pedal drum inside his chest.

“Just didn’t care for his tone, is all.” Louis tried for casual, but the words came out all wrong. Like suddenly he was the one being choked. “He said—”

“I know what he said, cheri.” One corner of Lestat’s mouth twitched, amused and annoyed all at once. “Excusez-moi—Louis.” Head tipped to one side. Eyes sweeping appraisingly over Louis’ face, down to his chest. Blue eyes limned in so much black. “They always say these things. The two of them. Like school boys. They cannot help that they are wildly attracted to me.”

At that—Louis instantly started to laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Smudged eyeliner. Leaning close. Lestat put his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Well, yes,” he said very quietly. Voice a husky rumble pouring from his throat. “That is what they tell me.”

Warm breath on Louis’ neck. Lestat pulled back, and all the people rushing around them suddenly melted away. And it was just the two of them. And there was a glint in Lestat’s eyes like he’d just won a game neither of them had even realized they were playing. Or that they’d both been playing with their whole chests, and now their chests were caving in. And the game was over.

And Lestat was clutching the prize with both hands.

And Louis was going to let him have it.

“Yeah, so—anyway.” Louis took a slow, deep breath. Slowly, slowly let it come rushing back out. He begged his heart to stop selling him out and to settle. “I’m starving. You wanna hunt?”

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth falling open with just the tiniest hint of his fangs poking out. “I would love to hunt with you, cheri,” Lestat said.

[rosie-zia]

Luxiem Drabbles

Scenario: Luxiem's significant other turned into Luxiem’s own fan mascots. Word Count: 3.3k+ all in all Genre: Fluff, comedy, & comfort. Note: I apologize in advance if the Luxiem boys are a bit OOC. I tried my best, and I hope you enjoy!

Vox Akuma:

Around the palace of the voice demon, you wandered the great long corridors, admiring every single detail and structure of the castle. As you walked in the halls, you would check each of the rooms to see if everything was in order before Vox Akuma returns home.

By the end of the hall was a door that you have never seen before. Curiosity has drawn you into the room. When you opened the door, it was an isolated room. You only saw some things that might have belonged to Vox. An album, a samurai sword, and other trinkets that you could possibly find. You felt like you were crossing Vox's privacy, so you tried to leave the room quickly.

However, you heard a small voice enter your mind. You turned around and no one was there. You looked around again just to make sure no one is in the same room as you, but you noticed red mist surrounding you. You looked for the source of this mysterious smoke, and the mist comes from the shiny Oni mask displayed on the left side of the room. Inhaling the smoke made you draw closer to the mask. There was no holding back anymore as you touched the mask before you fell unconscious.

A few moments later, you wake up in a random room and see Vox's trusted assistant, Oni Giri, trying to wake you up. Oni Giri explained about what happened to you, and how you passed out all of the sudden from the curse of the mask. Now, you turned into a biblically accurate fallen angel with eight dark wings, a huge eye, a pair of black horns with horizontal golden lines, white hair, and extra two white wings. Your new transformation made you look like one of his Kindreds. At first, you weren't able to process it properly, but when it did, it hit like a truck and made you panic. You worry about Vox's reaction.

It didn't take long before Vox arrived hurriedly in the scene, as it was right for you to worry because he tries to hold you like a plushie and examines you for any wounds.

"Darling, who did this to you? I swore if I ever find this person, I would absolutely hunt them down!"

Before things could even get dirty, Oni Giri explained the whole situation which calmed him down, but still wary about how you are feeling at the moment. Once you two are alone, Vox holds you in the most gentle way possible.

"It's alright now, my beloved, I'm here now. Let me take care of you like how I take care of my other Kindreds."

Soon enough, he leads you to a room filled with lots of friendly Kindreds and also locks the cursed room to keep you safe from the curse hitting you again.

Kindreds take one of the unique form as they appear like biblically accurate fallen angels. Their form can spook or scare someone, but Kindreds are sweet creatures. Kindreds are known as one of the most loyal species to their owner as they were drawn to the demon's sophisticated and alluring voice. At first, Kindred thinks very highly of their owner due to his elegance and his royal-like demeanor. Now, they still look up to him but in a different way that they got to see his true self free from expectations. Also, Kindred would work hard in helping whatever they can to do to show their gratitude to Vox. Whether someone is a Kindred or not, no one can resist the demon's charms and wit, so they will always fly back into his arms.

Luca Kaneshiro:

In the four corners of the manor, you waited for your boyfriend and mafia boss to come home from an important mission. It was getting too lonely whenever he had an errand to take care of in the mafia, so you had to find new ways to entertain yourself for the time being when he's gone.

This time, you were drinking some tea in your bedroom with Luca's lion cub, Augustus, idling away and enjoying the peace you have to yourself. The tea you were drinking was a gift from Shu since you want to try and explore different tea blends. Halfway through drinking the tea, you were getting a bit dizzy, and Augustus noticed it. He kept nudging you, but you assured him that you were fine. You don't know if it's from the tea or just from the times you spent with so much passion with Luca on the bed, but you can't keep your eyes anymore that you ended up passing out on the bed.

You woke up feeling normal but still groggy, trying to recall what happened before you passed out. You looked at the time and it's five in the evening. You feel like it's still too early for Luca to come home, so you will be expecting him sooner or later. Augustus saw you were awake and kept licking your face.

"mmm... Augustus, you know I'm sleeping. You can wait for Luca to come home and play with you."

Usually, you would get up from the bathroom and wash up after your nap, but something doesn't feel right when everything in your vision looks a bit bigger. You didn't feel like going to the bathroom this time, so you reached out to your pocket mirror by your nightstand and saw you turned into a small lion cub like Augustus.

"Wait- Augustus, what happened?! Why am I small and I look like you?"

You examined your features before reaching out to your phone and contacting your boyfriend. Although you know he's on the mission, it won't hurt to call him in the middle of his work, right? Surprisingly, he picked it up immediately.

"Oh, hey, babe. What's up?"

"Sorry for bothering you, Luca, but can you come home a bit earlier?”

“Oh yeah, I’m already on my way home, Y/N. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

You hung up as you slouched on the bed. While waiting for Luca, you played with Augustus. After exactly ten minutes, Luca barged into your room feeling a bit upbeat.

“Baby, I’m home! You sounded like you were panicking through our phone call. Are you alright?”

He expected to meet his partner on the bed, but he was surprised to see that his lover, you, turned into a Lucub. The young mafia boss may look amused about your transformation, but don’t let his expressions fool you because he’s clenching his fist.

“Alright, who did this to you? I just want to talk-”

“NONONO, it’s alright, maybe it’s temporary.”

Before you could explain yourself, Luca was already calling his friend, Shu, to ask him what to do in this situation you are in. He eventually hung up after talking to the sorcerer.

“Shu said you’ll be back in your own physical form tomorrow. Don’t worry too much, okay? It’s not good for you.”

As much as you were worried about how you will turn back to your normal self, you can’t help but listen to Luca. All your thoughts disappeared as you felt your man’s hand petting you.

“You look so adorable, and you really are fit to be a Lucub.”

You laughed at what Luca said and his bright smile made your worries fade away.

“Well… I’m your biggest fan.”

“Haha, Pog!”

From there, you and Luca played games and talked all day together along with Augustus by your side. It’s always nice to be with your number one himbo.

Lucubs are similar to lion cubs and the spitting image of Augustus. Additionally, Lucubs took an oath to work as bodyguards under the Kaneshiro mafia. They tend to be very huggable and lovable towards their owner as they really cherish him to the point they would kill everyone in the room and then themselves. Their owner may describe himself as the “mean and evil” mafia boss, but they try to prove him wrong and call him a “himbo.” Whether one is a Lucub or not, one will always ask if they are now facing the sun due to how bright his smile and personality is.

Ike Eveland:

It was an ordinary day as you cleaned out your boyfriend’s streaming room. Ike was out for the day to buy some groceries for the two of you, so you wanted to return the favor by cleaning his room. You were simply dusting his novels when suddenly a book fell off the shelf. It was an odd-looking book with an ancient design. You decided to open it, and the book glowed which then blinded your sight of vision.

After a while, you opened your eyes, and everything around you turned big from your perspective. You looked into your reflection on the marble floor and suddenly, you turned into a huge white ball of fluff with a blue feather on top. You were panicking, but you even panicked more when you heard yourself only saying small squeals and soft noises. After a small breakdown, you decided to wait for Ike to return home.

A few moments later, Ike returned a bit frustrated from driving to your shared home; however, his road rage somehow disappeared when he saw a huge white ball of fluff with a huge blue feather sticking out on top of it. The novelist pauses on his tracks and tries to have a double take if he is seeing things correctly and not just being delusional. Knowing that you cannot explain things by words, you picked up a pen and a paper to describe what happened.

“So you’re saying that you turned like this by a book from my shelf?”

You nodded apologetically while Ike picked up the same ancient book that turned you into a Quilldren. He scanned the book and then placeed it back on the shelf.

“Ah, this must belong to Shu. It says here the spell will just last for the whole day. Tomorrow, you’ll return to your own self in no time. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

As much as you wanted to speak with words, you let out sad noises and looked down on the ground. Ike sensed how you felt bad for troubling him, but it’s no trouble for him at all. He wanted you to at least cheer up, so he sat on his gaming chair and patted his lap, inviting you.

“I’ll be having my Zatsu stream today. Would you like to sit on my lap, älskling?”

Hearing those words from him made you so happy that your feather perked up in excitement. You made your way to his lap, and it felt like heaven. Ike started streaming and talked with chat about his usual day and some random topics to throw at. From time to time, your boyfriend will give you head pats and head rubs to assure you he’s there to hold you secure and safe.

The highlight of Ike’s chatting stream was when chat starting to ask for “lap rights” and he gave in after some persuasion from you and other Quilldrens. When his stream ended, Ike laughed and patted you once more.

“You and the Quilldren are a feisty bunch aren’t you? Hehe, never change, my älskling"

Quilldren come in various sizes, but they appear like fluffy cotton balls with a blue feather on top. Mostly, Quilldren can convey their feelings through their feathers similarly to a dog’s tail. These cotton balls may be endearing and sweet but won’t hesitate to bite back to their owner. Despite their different behaviors, they will unite as one to demand “lap rights” from their owner until they get what they want.

Shu Yamino:

You and Shu live together in the comfort of your shared home just chilling in each other’s presence, and you two will always help out each other. One day, he asked for your help. You were planning to do something else, but you were persuaded by your boyfriend and had to bribe you with extra food which led you in helping him with his chores.

Currently, you two are sorting out his spell books that he keeps in the basement. Most of them are collecting dust for being there for too long, so you tried your best to clean them.

"Is it really safe to keep them here? How about you just keep these books in your room?"

"I think it's safe enough as long as I don't chant or activate any spells from the books, and I can't put my spell books in my room because it doesn't fit anymore in there."

Shu smiles while you roll your eyes at the sly sorcerer. You both then get back to work, and you've finished cleaning Shu's bookshelf of spells.

"Alright! We're finally done. Now, where's the food that you promised?"

"Yeah yeah, I'll order the food you want. Just tell me what you want, and I'll order it for you."

As you two left the basement, your foot hit something from the ground and it's a thick book.

"Hmm? I think we might have missed this one. Hold on, I'll just put this back on the shelf."

"WAIT, Y/N, DON'T-"

Before you could even react, there was a glowing and blinding light inside of the basement like your whole life was flashing in your very eyes. You close your eyes for a moment, and then open it. Everything was blurry at first, but it was all clear when you looked in the mirror and you became... a banana?

"AHHHH SHU, WHY DID I BECOME A BANANA?!"

Shu also opened his eyes and saw your sudden transformation. He was silent at first, trying to process the current events unfolding before laughing so hard.

"Eyyyyy, you're a Yaminion now!"

"SHUUU!"

"Don't worry, don't worry! The effects are just temporary, you'll be just fine."

Throughout the whole day, Shu tried to compensate for what happened with a lot of your favorite comfort foods and lots of pampering. Your boyfriend does tease you from time to time though, but you don't mind as long as he keeps paying you back with food.

Yaminions take the form of bananas with stick-like arms and legs, occasionally wearing sunglasses to represent their swag. Unlike Quilldren, Yaminions are on the cooler side of things like their owner. Though they are chill, they don't experience much "fanservice." They go through means in order for their owner to give them some crumbs of affection to go throughout their day. If ever their owner would give a once in a lifetime pick-up lines, who knows what would happen to the hearts of the Yaminions.

Mysta Rias

At present, you are in Mysta’s apartment because he called you to come over. When you arrived, you saw a small note and it was written by your boyfriend, saying he had to leave urgently because of a serious investigation. At the back of his note, he added something and asked a favor to you to look out for his pets “Mystakes.” You sighed, concerned how hard he’s working, but that’s one of the reasons why you fell for him. You opened the door to Mysta’s apartment with one of his spare keys that he gave you.

Once you entered in, all of his Mystakes pounced on you. You almost tripped, but you were able to balance yourself.

“Hey, guys! Hehe, it’s nice to see you all again! Did you miss me?”

The foxes nodded happily as they helped clean Mysta’s room. Looking around at his apartment, there were boxes and some luggage lying around. You were wondering why they were packing Mysta's stuff until you remembered he was moving out to another city. As you watch them pack his things, you can't help but notice how sad they look, so you try your best to cheer them up.

"Awww, don't be sad. It's going to be alright, guys. I know you will miss him, but he says how much he loves you all. Wherever he goes, he'll always carry his Mystakes in his heart."

Some of his foxes are crying while the others are happy for him, but they just want the best for him at the end of the day. You let them process their emotions first before speaking up to give your idea.

"There are still a few days left before Mysta moves out, so better make the most of it with him and just have a blast!"

The small foxes looked at each other before looking back at you mischievously, certainly planning something in mind. This made you a bit nervous when you saw how the Mystakes kept approaching you until they threw themselves and piled on top of you.

"h-huh? w-what are you doing, guys? HEY WAIT-"

Those were the last words you uttered before chaos struck because somehow, you are now in the same physical form as them.

"I'm a Mystake?! How is this possible? Please change me back!"

Mysta's sly pets looked at you feeling proud of their work. It seems that they don't have any plans in changing you back to your original form, so you texted Mysta to just come home ASAP without telling him any details.

This led your boyfriend to get frantic when he read your message. After a while, Mysta finally returns home with a concerned expression on his face. He thought something serious had happened to you, so he ran home as fast as he could. The detective barged in the room and kept screaming your name.

"*huff* *pant* *pant* BABE?! Where are you? I tried to come home as fast as I could after receiving your text. Answer me!"

Looking now at the events before him, his face turned into a blank expression as soon as he understood the situation.

"Ah! Mysta! Thank goodness you are here. I became one of your foxes. Help me change back!"

"Ayo, they changed you into a Mystake, huh? Not surprising though since they can really pull tricks out of their sleeves."

"Will I be like this for a long time?"

"Nah, It will just last for a day. You'll be fine, trust me. I was turned into one of them, and it's not that bad."

You give him a suspicious look before trusting him and letting your boyfriend take care of you. You two, along with the Mystakes, ended up playing some games, chilling, and enjoying each other's company. It was just a usual day for Mysta streaming, but the smallest and simplest things count as precious memories.

After a day of gaming, Mysta ended the livestream and helped you prepare for bed. Even being in a form of a fox right now, Mysta didn't mind snuggling into you for the night. You two then eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning, Mysta opened his eyes as he felt the morning light hit his eyes. When his eyes were fully opened, he saw now how you finally turned into your original human form. As much as Mysta wants to wake you up to tell you that, he held himself back to look at your peaceful figure.

Your boyfriend brushed away any strands blocking your face while whispering the words he has been keeping to himself for a long time.

"You may be one of my Mystakes, but I never made a big mistake in loving you."

Mystakes are sly and mischievous foxes who tease and joke around their detective, but their behavior represents as a sign of affection towards their beloved owner. Foxes are known to form strong bonds with their owner or to their loved ones, and Mystakes show how loyal they can be to their owner. They don't hesitate to tell their owner how comfortable they are around him until his final moments. From the start until the beginning of the end, Mystakes stood up as strong ones, wanting for their owner to be happy and live his life to the fullest.

Fin.

-----------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for reading my work and for your support >_< Sorry I took so long. This is dedicated to the boys of Luxiem, especially to our beloved detective Mysta Rias. He taught me to stay strong and keep smiling in times of hardships and difficulties. He became a part of my life that I will never forget. Mysta, wherever you are, I hope you are living the best life. I will always pray for you and your safety as you solve the next case. Good luck on your work, detective! Spread the love!

[noirbriar]

Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (5)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

Take this messy thing that is nearing the end! Here is a short palate cleanser between meals with our favourite hobbit adventurer in retirement waiting to call you out on your BS.

Also one dedicated and spicy part to @tamilhobbit , you will know which one ;)

---

5] Bilbo Baggins

“Curious isn’t it?”

Curious would probably be the last thing Bilbo Baggins would choose to describe the sight before him.

In fact, this is quite possibly the last thing he had expected to see when Lord Elrond called for his sons, the twin young princes of Rivendell, to give him a tour around the Homely House.

The old adventurer has been here enough times to know his way around.Though Bilbo really thinks the Lord is simply trying to take the opportunity to keep his sons out of certain mischief. If that playful glint in their eyes are anything to go by. He has seen that bright glint in far, far, far too many young fauntlings and Frodo with his cousins to miss that look.

Retirement now suits Bilbo well in his opinion, now that he has taken one last adventure with dear Bofur and Nori and his young apprentice to ease that restlessness in him. Even if he finds himself unable to step into that magnificent mountain once more. With the conclusion of his last journey, he lays down his walking stick and have moved into the peaceful elven haven that has ensnared his heart long ago. In a few short days, the peaceful valley of Elrond Half-elven had done wonders to his exhausted and tired old soul.

Elladan and Elrohir settles beside him, leaning on the elegant railings along the high garden pavilion.The setting sun illuminating the Valley in golden light. They have shown him the great libraries, the council rooms and lovely gardens. Not forgetting the amazing kitchens and the wondrous Hall of Fire.

Yet he finds this one that they have wondrously called 'Rivendell’s Most Unbelievable Wonder Through The Ages' the most bizarre of all.

"I'm not sure how this is...a thing?" Bilbo gives the twins a wary eye, uncertain how he should feel about this with a willowy wave of his hand to gesture at whatever he is seeing before him.

In response, the twins' smiles grow wider and bright. Although the joy of the young Lords of Rivendell sends a dull wrenching twang into his heart. For once upon a time, he knew two young princes who shared the same bright smiles and playfulness in their eyes.

No, no, stop. Don't go back down that hole you silly old Baggins. Not here, not now.

“Oh, its a thing alright! Do not be deceived, Master BIlbo! Even if they deny it to this very day. In fact," at that point, Elladan draws nearer in a whisper, "every century, the whole House will update wagers on it."

"Aye! Isn't that right, Aerion?” Elrohir turns to ask the guardsman on duty nearby with a laugh. Even though said elven guard does not share the same mirthful sentiment with a careful look out of the corner of his eye to his young lords.

“Please don't bring me into this, my Lords. For I have no wish to have my guard duty extended by any means.” Elrohir and Elladan gave a loud laugh at that dry reply, which only serves to make the twins tease the tired guard even harder. Bilbo instead, takes the moment to watch on quietly as distant voices fade in the wind.

The two mighty guardians of Rivendell, Glorfindel and Erestor. Ephemeral and strong, walking alongside each other, gliding along the slender bridges by the waterfall gracefully like all of the elves seem to do. A serene scene of peace, as the golden haired elf bows down his head like a swan to allow his shorter companion to reach up and brush away the stray water droplets from his cheek. The fair Captain taking the opportunity to grasp those slender fingers, brushing a kiss on the back of the Chief Councillor's hand. His gentle lips lingering on soft skin. While the intimidating advisor simply indulges the balrog-salyer, allowing him his little whims.

The obviously private and tender moment brings forth another wave of old memories that Bilbo have laid to rest under rock and mountain, far in the East. Of a time long ago, almost as if it was yesterday, under the same setting sun. There upon the Carrock, where Bilbo once felt the warmth of another heart who had eyes that bore the colour of the endless sky.

No.

No,no,no. No reason to have those thoughts. He's gone, they are gone, its all in the past and he can do nothing to change that fact.

Bilbo shuts his eyes and smothers the beginnings of old memories resurfacing once more with his pain and regrets. Hands clenched in his empty coat pockets, grasping for the missing weight of his old trinket, before the old Hobbit simply sighs. He lets himself feel the sun on his skin, with the gentle air of Rivendell soothing his old soul, and he tries to breathe.

---

"-Oh and don't get me started on Court of the Vanyar! They make the Noldor Court seem simpler in comparison. It was all very stifling, to me at least, even when my family are only minor members of both Courts. Every clan had their own share of drama if I must say." Glorfindel shakes his head with a sigh, while focused on tidying his treasured trees. Their shapes lovingly sculpted and grown with painstaking care over the years in beautifully commissioned pots.

"Well, from what I have read about Finwe and his family, it very much reminded me of our own Hobbit families. Bothersome, is it not? It's probably the only thing I don't miss about the Shire. Especially the Sackville-Baggins! Oh, I do hope Frodo is dealing well with it all...But he's a smart lad, that he is!" Bilbo gives a small hum as he sips his cup of sweet hibiscus tea.

The tranquil garden and flora makes Bilbo feel at ease despite stressing over greatly early on being invited to tea in the Golden Lord's quarters. Much like their master, the many flowers in Glorfindel's private garden all bloom gracefully, beautiful and bright.

Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lindon, and now Imladris, had been an enigma. For it was only recently the hobbit had the chance to be acquainted with the legendary hero of song. Bilbo had not expected the balrog-slayer who have fought countless great wars to be this easy to get along. A very charming and animated ellon. His lively spirit shines like the light around him, golden and warm like the sun

The Captain too, had been curious about their newest resident and instantly felt connected to the hobbit once he saw Bilbo arrive into Rivendell with Sting tucked proudly by his side. The old Lord’s heart had gladden to find a relic of his past have landed into good hands. It was a little later they found that they had share a great love and interest for nature and tea, with the Lord keen in sharing his knowledge with the intriguing and scholarly second-born.

Looking at these lovely flowers is making Bilbo wonder how his own gardens in Bag End fair right now, but he knows young Samwise and the Gamgees are taking care of them well.

"To be honest I am not familiar, especially of Feanor's side. I was close to Fingolfin and Turgon only because my amil had been close to Lady Indis." At that Glorfindel seemed to pause and thought quietly for a minute with a thoughtful finger to his lips," Only Erestor would know, I suppose."

"The Chief Councillor? Was he truly close to Feanor and his sons as they say?" Bilbo pops a honey cake into his mouth, trying to remember the descendants of Finwe with as much accuracy as he could.

"Too young to know Feanor! Eres had served under Maedhros and Maglor, though he grew up in Thargelion under Caranthir. He's probably the only one left on this side of the Sea who knew all of Feanor's Sons and Celebrimbor. I don't recommend asking about it. It is, and remains... a difficult subject for him." With that Glorfindel lays down the tiny scissors in his hand, while brushing away any stray twigs.

"I noticed you both are very close, it is heartening to see such close bond you share." Bilbo quickly pours the ellon a cup of tea, who receives it gratefully. "Even if Lord Erestor seem to be a formidable individual to get along."

Indeed he was, for when the first time Bilbo had encountered the Lord, he was in a full blown rage at the apprentice scribes. The Hobbit just passing through the administrative halls with Lord Elrond when they hear Erestor berating the group of staff for a mistake with the invoices for timber and construction with heavy words. It was certainly quite an impression and a contrast to the Erestor he remembered seeing later on the bridge with Glorfindel. However, Bilbo has yet been able to make further acquaintance with the ever busy, and ever elusive advisor of Elrond.

"Oh, don't tell him I said this, Eres may look cold to all, but he's much like a chestnut! Prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside! Even if he still refuses to help me trim these little ones while I'm on patrol!" Glorfidel gestures to his little trees that seem to be dancing in their pretty pots." Moving them into the shade is all he could do, he says! Is that not terrible? Said he did not want to water for fear of drowning them, which is very silly considering we are elves! These little ones can tell him how much water they require!"

The warrior and the hobbit laugh. Until Glorfindel turns to his flowers, caressing a celandine as the warrior's mood turns sombre.

"When all saw a flawless visage of an ideal Hero returned, it was only him who saw a broken soul who was made to fit a mould from the day he was born." Glorfindel admits quietly, as if its a shameful confession."I was so lost, so alone in all that noise. From Tirion to Gondolin and to Lindon...no one knew. Not even dear Ecthelion or Elgamoth. I realised later I had resented it."

Bilbo have no words as he watches Glorfindel's eyes glaze over, reminiscing of a time long past.

"I may be blessed by the Valar, but even I am no perfect being in Eru's Song. For that, I am grateful to have met Erestor in this second life, for he was the only one who dared called me out. He had opened my eyes, so that I can find the courage in myself… to simply be 'Glorfindel'. "

Bilbo froze, his teacup nearly slipping from his hand. A chill of deja-vu sends a chill down Bilbo's spine. A hand pulls up to his cravat while the other dug deep into his pocket with a tremble.

Fingers feeling a phantom touch of hands wrapped around an acorn and his own.The lingering touch of large warm palms that once laid hands on his bare neck burns. Of bloody hands full of calloused and scars growing cold in his own.

He snaps out of his thoughts just as quickly as it came. Foolish old Baggins! Old age has certainly muddled his mind. Best to have some tea to calm those damn thoughts as Glorfindel's voice began to grow clearer once more.

"-Well! He did punch my face in and then called me a friend and a 'fucking prideful twit and indecisive dick' all in the same breathe but-It was exhilarating!"

Bilbo spits out his tea.

---

-With a snarl, Mori makes a grab for Lote's hand, unwilling to let him leave. The Lord of the Moon tugs him back, pressing his full weight against the Lord of the Gardens against a tree, determined and unwilling to let his love flee once more. Eager lips crushing against the other in a hungry kiss. Each protest drowned out by the love they have as cries yearning for more fill the air.

Overcome by want and need, they tore their robes away, seeking for skin. To feel the other in desperation and assurance after everything, to join their souls once again.

In the midst of it all, the lovers have failed to notice the eyes of another watching them intently under the cover of emerald leaves. King Taur watches on, as he finally lets go, surrendering his desire to another who had claimed the heart of the mighty Lord. While the couple continue their passionate dance, as if nothing in this world mattered but the one in their arms-

"What are you reading that has captured your attention so, Bilbo?"

The old hobbit promptly snaps the book shut. A seemingly innocent leather bound novel in violet, with naught but a crescent moon and moonflower embossed artfully on the front. With a deep breath and some time to process what he have just read as years of proper, hobbitish decorum suppressed that undignified noise from his throat.

Which is ridiculous on second thought for he was a very old hobbit, not some young fauntling.

Bilbo then slowly tilts his head up to find Elrond watching him intently with a serene smile. The elf Lord of his new home who always seem to bear a soothing presence and eyes filled with wisdom of the ages.

"Good afternoon, Elrond! A pleasant day, is it not?" Bilbo greets, making light pleasantries to dispel any possible awkwardness present. All while scooting over from his spot on the garden bench."Come to enjoy the gardens too?"

"Well, I could use a break. At least, until Erestor hunts me down once more to peruse the trade agreement with Thranduil for the fifth time. Which is still five times too many, in my humble opinion. But do not tell him that." Elrond replies, shifting beside the hobbit comfortably, before he notices the innocent looking novel in his grasp. His dark eyes brightened at the sight of the cover.

"Ah,I see you have been reading one of Rivendell's most popular literary works. Long has it been since I have seen a new update! It is a rare collectable amongst those who live here, a book that appears in rare places, strangely enough. Celebrian had loved the series. She always did her best to seek out each new book to add to her collection." Elrond smiles, reaching a hand out to peek inside the pages.

"Oh, dear Elbereth! There is even illustrations now? How marvellous!"

"This? Truly?"Bilbo is baffled by Elrond's words and finds himself babbling on, a little embarrassed still to have been caught reading what was obviously a dramatic romantic saga.

"I just happened to be looking around your library, amazing collection, very impressive! Such splendid upkeep of history and culture, I daresay, even I'm inspired to pick up my quill to write something despite my procrastinations in translation of some lore! Oh what was I saying…Oh! Its just simply by sheer chance I spotted this book with such a lovely cover! Wonderful craft! It was tucked at the top. Awfully dreadful place, too high up, but Master Melpomaen was so very kind to help me get this. Although he did looked a little unusual and seemed a little reluctant to hand it over!"

"Of course. Considering this particular series is a contraband here."

Silence.

"I'm sorry but my ears seem to be failing me for I seem to not be hearing you quite clearly. Contraband? In Rivendell? For whatever reason could some simple romance literature be a 'contraband'?" Bilbo's fingers come up to do little gestures of a quote at the incredulous revelation, unable to wrap his head around the thought. A clearly ordinary romantic fiction, that is popular and well received by readers, a contraband in Rivendell where the greatest tomes and arts are to be found? Sounds rather foolish if you speak it aloud!

"Well, it is not banned, per say. More like its author is someone my Chief Councillor has been...eager, to meet for a very long time, to put it lightly." Elrond explains after a pause, only to receive a blank look from the gentlehobbit.

The robins chirp merrily and the tulips dances on while Bilbo blinks at the elven Lord.

"The main characters, do they not remind you of anyone?" Elrond tries again with a slight wave of his hand.

Actually, they do.

"Please do not tell me its Glorfindel and..."Bilbo takes a moment, "Lord Erestor."

"Ahhh, even an outsider has quickly caught on. Yes, that book has haunted my dear Councillor for many yeni. I am surprised to see the series surfacing once more and so soon this century." Elrond continues with an enthusiastic nod. Completely disregarding Bilbo's incredulous look and twitch of his nose while slowly processing the revelation as he studies the simple cover of the novel in amazement.

The sudden quiet rustling from the leaves above catches their attention.The elf and hobbit both look up.

Cold gold eyes peers down at them in a glower. The owl hoots balefully at the two.

"And very unfortunately, that is my cue to take my leave." The master of Rivendell mutters grimly before getting up with quick, silent steps. Not before he stops and back tracks a little after a short pause.

"Also, Bilbo, whenever you are done with that book, would you kindly let me have it?"

---

The stars glitter beautifully as a great fire burns brightly in the Hall of fire. The Captain is surrounded by his soldiers and a few of the Dunedain, playing a mannish drinking game involving some tavern songs with the minstrels joining in. Elrond on the other hand, did not looked too impressed that Elrohir and Elladan are playing along with some of the more bawdy ones.

However on the outer side of the Hall, Bilbo is unable to relax in the quiet corner despite the cheerful atmosphere. Even the lovely platter of cheeses and crackers on his lap cannot distract his scattered mind.

Lindir trills a jolly verse which ends with a round of laughter from all in the Hall. Meanwhile, his Baggins-ness demands him to ignore that implusive thought, even though the idea of leaving it alone does not sit well with Bilbo. It was a thought that has been nagging at him greatly for quite awhile yet it irks him to be so uncertain in how to address it.

Namely, to the one sitting right beside him.

Erestor seemed unbothered by the troubled hobbit beside him as he turns a page of Numenorian poetry in hand, occasionally picking up a berry dipped in sweet cream to nibble on with a delicate dessert fork from his plate. The perfect image of absolute control and composure.

His Tookish-ness finally bites.

"So, you and Glorfindel?"

Erestor pauses with his fork in mid-air and turns a side eye towards Bilbo. Observing in an almost unnerving silence. Before the Councillor lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his treat on his plate as if he is tired of answering the same old question repeatedly.

"We are not courting, if that is what you are asking." The quiet advisor replies flatly and then turns back to his book.

"Indeed, that is not."Bilbo takes a deep breath," rather, why are you both not? Its rather obvious you both are together if not, in love."

Erestor stills. The elf now turns his attention completely to the old hobbit. His silvery green eyes sharp and cold. Bilbo sees. This is not just any elf before him, but one who has seen far more bloodshed and violence, loss and sorrow, than a mere hobbit.

Yet Bilbo Baggins, previously of the Shire and of Bag End, is unfazed by this stern ellon's gaze. For nothing will ever compare to the cold eyes of stone glazed in cold molten gold. Not even the great piercing stare of an evil fire drake that towered over a gentlehobbit of the Shire. All the dreadful and cruel things, and all bearing the promises of fire and death.

"And what would you know of love, Master Bilbo?" The words are delivered quietly, piercing sharp like blades. Though not with disdain, but with cautious care. A true politician.

"I know because I had loved once, Lord Councillor." Bilbo leans his chin on his hand and gives a tired smile, slowly turning to stare into the fiery glow of the fire in the hall instead. As if the flames are burning him with old memories with snarls of wargs and the silhouette of the Pale Orc looming ahead. Of dragon fire and dwarrow leading a charge. Of a King fighting to the bitter end.

Of a beloved sitting close by his side in the quiet of night by the lake over the autumn moonlight.Warm, gentle hands beside his own.

"Love, I did." Bilbo continues to smile wistfully, reaching for those beloved memories that have kept calling out to him at long last, "And I will never again, at least until I find the Halls of Mahal."

Erestor turns fully now towards his companion, and Bilbo can feel the elf watching him with an unreadable gaze. Before he hears the shuffling of pages and a book being closed.

The laughter of men and elves resounds.

"Did they not know?"

"No.No... I never told him, even at the very end. Out of foolish hopes and denial I suppose. Afterall, what is a simple hobbit hoping to do, standing next to a King who bears a great legacy?" Bilbo lets out a helpless laugh as he wills the prickling in his eyes away.

"And why should a hobbit who bested a dragon not stand beside a King?" Erestor pushes on, seeking to understand the dilemma.

"Then why should two elven Lords of a great realm and esteem standing not be together in all sense of the word?" Bilbo counters.

There is no proper response as the two stare at the other, while the merry making crowd continues to sing.

"Its not that simple." Erestor finally whispers as he turns his eyes towards the dancing fire, where the soldiers are dancing to the beat. It was barely loud enough for Bilbo to catch on.

"Not if you keep overcomplicating it? To be alive, to be able eat and to drink and cheer and to feel the grass and stone beneath your toes with someone by your side... why worry about uncertain sorrow you have made for yourself?" Bilbo replies, before going on softly.

"Far better be it to love with your all now, even just once, then to regret what may be when its all too late. Time waits for no one, not even immortals."

The old adventurer stands, pushing away the plate of snacks to the elf and gives a slight nod, taking his leave. Erestor's eyes linger on, following the old hobbit as he walks away as laughter echoes on into the quiet of the night.

---

After he retires back into his room, Bilbo sits at his hobbit sized desk, watching Earendil glowing high above Rivendell.

Time is cruel. Time is fickle. But time will not stop him from meeting the One he loves again at the end of this winding road. Until then...he will not forget the gift he has been granted, walking out of his round green door.

The hobbit turns and looks at the crimson red leather journal in the corner of his desk. Old wrinkled fingers trailing along, tracing the texture of its leather cover. The bright laughter of two princes echoes in his mind with old friends, with the deep tenor of a beloved singing of home.

Bilbo dips a quill into ink as he begins to write.

---

A/N: When all else fails, always trust your resident Hobbit who has yet to address his deep PTSD.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

[whoawardwinchester]

A Winchester Chronicle (c7)

Note: Thank you all for your patience while I healed from my sickness. Still not completely over it, but getting better and writing again! :)

Please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging -but do not copy and add or take things out of my work!

Summary: In Chapter 7, set around Halloween, the team films the intense scene where Sam, Dean, and Raven meet Castiel and Uriel at the motel. Tension runs high as the actors delve into their roles, creating an electrifying atmosphere on set. Between takes, light-hearted banter and camaraderie shine through, reflecting their strong off-screen relationships. Meanwhile, Y/N grapples with second-guessing her relationship with Jensen, feeling overwhelmed by the blend of personal and professional life. Jensen, Jared, and Misha discuss their concerns about Y/N, highlighting their deep care and support for her.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Content Warning: (subject to change per chapter as this series is written) possessive Smut, fluff, angst, jealousy, reference to scenes in season 4 episode 7 of spn. Readers are advised to proceed with caution due to these themes and scenes.

Rating: 18+ for the whole series.

This is a work of fiction. There is no hate for anyone in real life.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series, just let me know! Also be sure to tell me how I'm doing or request anything related to Jensen/Dean!

Taglist: @nancymcl @perpetualabsurdity @hobby27

Masterlist

Chapter 7: Inspired by ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester’

The cold morning Vancouver sun casts a golden glow on the set, transforming the Halloween decorations into a festive, spooky town. Orange and black streamers hang from every surface, jack-o’-lanterns with flickering LED candles line the sidewalks, and eerie sound effects play softly in the background. The smell of pumpkin spice, cinnamon, and coffee fills the air.

You step out of the car, feeling the crisp autumn air bite at your cheeks. Your driver closes the door and notices you taking in everything. “This place looks amazing,” you say, your eyes wide with excitement.

“It truly is, ma’am. This is the best time of year here.” He sighs, admiring the decorations too. As you both turn to view more lights, you see Jensen in the distance on the phone with someone. He looks heated, but you can’t hear or see what he might be saying. Your driver interrupts your distraction with his farewell.

“Well, I’ll see you tonight. Will Mr. Ackles be joining you as well?” he asks earnestly.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure. I can text you about an hour before pickup with that detail, if that’s okay?” You had a feeling that Jensen was on the phone with Dee. He had been getting up early to take calls in the hall at weird hours lately, and you aren’t one to pry or invade privacy.

“No worries! I just like to be prepared, but spontaneous guests are fine too!” Your driver quips as he pops into the driver’s seat. “See you later, miss!”

“See you later!” You wave. As your car drives off, you look for Jensen again and he catches your eye, nodding and smiling in your direction. He holds up a finger letting you know he’ll be a moment, but turns away at the sound of conversation on the other end of the phone. A knot forms in your stomach. You decide to leave him to his dilemma and make your way to your trailer, enjoying the sights the whole walk over. Your assistant greets you with a hot chocolate and, to your surprise, a fully decked-out trailer for the holiday.

“Oh my… You did all of this?!” you exclaim, appreciating the warm beverage in your already frosted fingers.

“I remember you mentioning it’s your favorite holiday, so I went all out for you!” Your assistant beams.

“This is… You didn’t… Thank you, thank you so, so much!” You hug her, accidentally splashing some hot chocolate on your shirt.

“Oh, let me help!” she says, motioning toward your closet.

“No, please don’t fuss, you’ve already done so much for me.” You set your cup on the counter and wave her away. You both are so enamored with the sight of everything and cleaning up that neither of you hears Jensen pop into the trailer.

“Yeah, they really went all out this year. Wait until you see the inside of the diner—they’ve got cobwebs and everything.” He is grinning at you.

You and your assistant both jump at his voice. “JESUS… JENSEN. Knock much?” you gasp, clutching your chest. Your assistant laughs after her fright, and silently leaves to give you both some space.

“I don’t think I have to anymore, since we basically spend every waking hour next to each other.” He smirks, leaning towards you for a good morning kiss. You dodge it and head for your closet to find a new shirt. You are silent, unsure of how to even bring up that you feel like he is hiding something. You don’t want to start a fight today of all days.

“It’d be nice if we spent all night together too, but your phone has other plans.” You laugh, hoping he thinks it’s a joke.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you. His chin rests on your left shoulder as he sways you both gently. God, he smells so good. It is intoxicating to you. Like a forest after a deep rainstorm, a perfect mixture of pine and earth. It is so hard to be upset when he holds you with his strong arms, making you feel safer than ever each time. His husky voice fills your head.

“Are you upset?” You look up into the mirror before you both; concern creases his face as he studies your reflection.

“No, babe.” You lie. You are not going to give thought to Dee any longer, and today is not the day to talk about her.

As fast as you say it, you turn to look at him, smiling. “You just startled me and now I have to figure out how to get this stain off of my favorite sweater.” You blot at your shirt. You don’t give him time to say anything back before you hurry off to change your shirt and step out of the trailer to hand your assistant your dirty sweater.

“Do you know of a good cleaner? I know I’ll never get this out,” you ask sheepishly. “Laundry has never been my forte.” You giggle.

She smiles. “It’ll be back before you head out tonight.” And she scurries off.

Jensen follows you out of your trailer and reaches for your hand to lead you to set. He is unusually quiet today and keeps glancing at you with a solemn face. You just smile at him, allowing him to lead you to where you are shooting for the day. You both say good morning to anyone who greets you first, but otherwise, the tension is palpable. When you finally get to set, Jared’s booming voice breaks through the air.

“Hey, there they are!” He strides over with a wide grin, Jim and Misha following close behind.

You all greet each other, giving Jared, Misha, and Jim a hug before you head to hair and costume. “I’ll see you guys later.” You wink, turning and bumping into Jensen’s chest. You let out an “umph” as he gently grabs your upper arms, stopping you from toppling over. As you gather your bearings and look up at him with your gunpowder blue eyes, his voice becomes a whisper.

“Are you sure we’re okay?” He asks, sweeping a piece of your long auburn wavy hair out of your face and behind your ear. You want nothing more than to tell him that everything is going to be fine, that you love him, and kiss him so deeply that he’d feel it for the next week. Just as you are about to speak—

“Guess who got the Samhain Ghost part?!” You all look past Jensen and see Dee standing there, hands on her hips, eyebrow raised, and a smirk a mile long. Jensen doesn’t turn around. You look at him, shocked, and back up slowly.

“I’m going to be late,” you say softly, your gaze never leaving Jensen’s until you turn around.

You feel everyone’s eyes on you as you leave the room, but you don’t care. You are not going to relive the last encounter with Dee over and over again. You rush to Hair and Makeup as fast as you can without looking indifferent and study your lines more.

After you get into costume, the director gathers everyone around, his clipboard in hand, as he explains the episode’s premise. “Alright, folks, we’ve got a witch summoning Samhain played by Dee today, the demon of Halloween. It’s going to be a battle to stop the rise of the dead.”

Jared chuckles, shaking his head. “Just another day in the life of the Winchesters.”

“Yeah, but it makes for great TV,” Jensen quips, flashing a charming smile.

You look at both of them and then at Jim. Jim gives you a remorseful look as you roll your eyes at J2’s inability to see how it affects everything. Misha puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing as he whispers, “Either they're oblivious or they are trying to make the most of this whole thing.”

“Or they really are the world’s biggest idgets,” you say loud enough for them to hear, a deadpan expression on your face. You can tell Jared understands why you said it, and Jensen just laughs, oblivious to your frustration.

The crew begins to prepare the set, moving props into place and adjusting cameras. You watch as the town transforms into an eerie setting, complete with fog machines and dim, flickering street lights. There’s a buzz of excitement in the air; everyone is eager to dive into the day’s filming. The director calls Dee and Jensen over to have a word offset. You watch as they all look awkward and a bit upset.

Jared nudges you gently. “Ready for another day of saving the world?”

You smile up at him, hiding your discomfort. “Always. Let’s do this.”

As you all move to your positions, you notice a small group of kids in Halloween costumes, extras for the scene. One of them, dressed as a mini vampire, looks up at you with wide eyes. “Are you really a witch?”

You crouch down to his level, smiling. “Only on TV. But don’t worry, I’m a good witch.”

The boy grins, showing off his fake fangs. “Cool! Can I get your autograph for my sister? She loves your character! She made my mom make a Raven costume from scratch.”

You are flattered. “Oh wow! That sounds amazing! Absolutely, and if you find me before you leave tonight, I’ll get a picture for her, too.”

He grins and skips off to get ready for the takes.

The tension on set rises as you film the intense scene where Sam, Dean, and Raven meet Castiel and Uriel at the motel. The director's voice booms, "Action!" and you slip into your role as Raven, the insightful ally to the Winchesters. The green motel with its neon vacancy sign looms in the background as Raven and Dean park the Impala. Sam joins them as they step out.

“So?” Dean grunts at Sam.

“Tracy was nowhere I could find,” Sam says solemnly, glancing at Raven and then Dean. “Any luck with her friends?”

“Luck is not our style. Her friends don’t know where she is,” Raven remarks, walking towards the motel.

“It’s like the bitch hopped a broom.” Dean added, joining Sam and Raven at the stairs.

“She could be making the third sacrifice anytime.” Sam muses, watching a boy in an astronaut costume approach.

“Yes, thank you, Sam,” Dean says sarcastically, glancing at the boy who interrupts with a cheerful, "Trick or Treat."

“Oh my God, how cute!” Raven says, putting her hands on her knees to look the boy in the face.

“Yeah, so cute. This is a motel.” Dean says to the kid. Raven stands straight again, glancing at Sam and they both give Dean a look of astonishment.

“So?” the kid asked rudely.

“So. We don’t have any candy.” Dean says blatantly.

“No, we have a ton in the, uh–” Sam says pointing to the car.

“We did, but it’s gone.” Dean interrupts.

“Gee, I wonder how that happened, Dean.” Raven said, plucking wrappers from Dean’s coat.

Sam gives Dean a ‘really??’ look. The kid is unimpressed. “Sorry kid, we can’t help you.” Dean says.

“I want candy.” He is determined.

“Well, I think you’ve had enough,” Dean retorts in a teasing tone. Sam looks on, slightly disgusted.

Raven elbows Dean playfully in the ribs, making him wince, and then walks with Sam towards the next scene. Dean and the kid exchange looks before the kid finally walks away, unimpressed.

The scene moves to the motel room, which is meticulously dressed to resemble a typical roadside motel—faded dark floral wallpaper, dim lighting casting shadows on the worn carpet, and the flickering neon sign visible through the window, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

You stand between Sam and Dean, your eyes scanning the room warily as Sam unlocks the door and walks in, close behind him. Sam immediately pulls a gun from his jacket and gets defensive. “WHO ARE YOU?!” As Sam yells his voice is sharp, his gaze never leaving the two angels. Raven pulls her gun as well, pointing it at a man sitting on one of the beds in a beige trench coat.

“Sam! Raven! Wait!” Dean shouts, stepping between Raven, Sam, and the man, urging them to lower their weapons. “It’s Castiel… The angel,” he explains, looking from Sam to Raven.

Sam’s face is a mix of shock and awe, while Raven remains skeptical, her gun still poised.

“Who’s that, then?” Raven asks, nodding towards the other figure by the window.

Misha, playing Castiel, steps forward with his usual stoic expression, while the actor portraying Uriel exudes a palpable aura of intimidation. The scene demands a fine balance of fear and defiance, and you can feel the weight of the moment as the cameras roll. The angel rises, facing Sam and Raven. His voice mono toned and collected, “Hello Sam. Hello Raven.”

“Oh, my God.” Sam begins, a bit star struck. Raven kicks his boot and looks at him in disbelief. “Er, uh, I didn’t mean to– sorry. It’s an honor. Really, I-I’ve heard a lot about you.” He extends his hand to Castiel as Dean looks at Sam confused. Raven closes the door, as the camera pans to Sam’s hand.

Castiel looks skeptical, but takes his hand and shakes it firmly. “And I, you. Sam Winchester– the boy with the demon blood.” Castiel puts his other hand on top of Sam’s and looks Sam square in the face. Sam looks offended and shocked at how he knows. “Glad to hear you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” The burly man at the window finally speaks. Sam, Dean, and Raven look at him.

“Yeah, ok, chuckles.” Dean snides.

“Who’s your friend?” Raven asks, taking off her coat and hanging it up.

“Ah, Raven Blackwood. The one destined to stand by Dean Winchester's side. Glad to see your fate is aligning nicely to carry on the Winchester legacy." He eyes her up and down. Dean and Sam look at Raven as if she knows what he’s talking about. “Wha– Excuse me?” Raven asks, stepping away from Castiel. “I’m their friend. I’m here to help.”

“No. You happened to stumble upon them in a time of need, yes. But that was not your destiny.” The man behind Castiel said fiercely.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that my main purpose is to give Dean a family? Is that what I’m understanding?” Raven looks like she’s going to throw up. This line has Y/N thinking about if Jensen wants a family and if she’s ready to give that to him at any point. A knot forms in her stomach, making her miss her mark, but Jared catches her improving.

“That’s not the point tonight. This raising of Samhain— Have you stopped it?” Castiel intercedes.

“Why?” Dean asks. Castiel turns to him. “Dean, have you located the witch?” “Yes, we’ve located the witch.” “And is the witch dead?”

“No, but–” Sam interrupts, looking toward Dean. “We know who it is.” Raven steps in to defend the brothers.

“Apparently the witch knows who you are, too.” Castiel says walking toward a nightstand, picking up a leather pouch. “This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or all of you would be dead.” He held up the satchel.

Raven and the brothers looked at each other disappointed that they missed that detrimental detail.

“Do you know where the witch is now?” Casitel asked.

Dean looks back at Sam and Raven questioningly. “We’re working on it.” Raven pips up, stepping in front of Dean.

“That’s unfortunate.” Castiel glares at the back of the burly man’s head, who still hasn’t turned to look at the group. He feels like a chaperone at a school dance, waiting to write anyone up for any kind of slip up.

“What do you care?” Dean demands.

“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals.” Castiel lets on.

“So this is about your buddy lucifer.” Dean accuses.

“Lucifer is no friend of ours.” The burly voice stepped in. Sam, Dean, and Raven turned toward the authoritative voice. Sam is scared, Dean is mad, and Raven is ready to step between the two men and her family if needed, grabbing at Dean’s jacket like a seatbelt hoping he won’t provoke the situation.

“It’s just an expression.” Raven tries to diffuse the tension.

“Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.” Castiel let on.

“Okay. Great…well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is? We’ll gank her and everybody goes home.” Dean said, expecting his help.

The back-and-forth between the characters builds in intensity as Castiel introduces Uriel and they make a game plan for the Samhain witch. You exchange glances with Jensen, the unspoken understanding between you adding depth to the scene. Every line, every movement, is charged with energy.

Between takes, the mood lightens between you, Jared, and Misha. Jensen attempts to tease you about the way you delivered your lines, and you retort with playful jabs about his intense expressions trying to keep the normality of your relationship, but off screen Dee is watching every move you and Jensen make.. Jared joins in, his laughter infectious, breaking the tension of the heavy scene and your thoughts about Dee.

As the scene wraps up, you feel exhausted from filming the same few lines due to missing marks a few times. The director calls for a break, and you step outside with Jensen, needing a moment to decompress.

Jensen turns to you, his eyes searching. “You okay? You seemed a bit off during that last take.”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere, doubts about your relationship with Jensen creeping in. The intensity of the scenes, coupled with your personal fears, makes you second-guess everything. You wonder if mixing work and personal life was a mistake, if maybe things are moving too fast. Jensen doesn’t push the issue because he’s seen you look this way when your mother was harping on you in the hospital. He doesn’t want to cause you more stress. “Would you like a hug, babe?” He asks you earnestly. You nod again after thinking for a second about it.

Jensen doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close and cups your head in one hand, his other arm wrapping firmly around your body. He’s so warm and thoughts of letting him go flood your brain. Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you sniffle. Jensen looks you in the eyes, concern etched even deeper than before. His green eyes search for any hint of what might be on your mind. “Y/N, please tell me what’s going on…so I can help.” He pleads with you.

“It’s just allergies, Jen. I’m fine really.” You say backing away from him. “I’m going to– uh– grab some claritin from the med trailer. I’ll be right back.” You pop off set to get a moment to yourself.

Later, while you’re grabbing a coffee on your way back from the med trailer, you overhear Jensen, Jared, and Misha talking. They’re worried about you, discussing your recent behavior. Jensen's voice is filled with concern. “I think she’s having second thoughts. I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you do something the last few days to upset her?” Jared asked, puzzled.

“I mean, she did joke about not being together at night earlier, but… Oh, shit.” Jensen said, finally understanding the situation.

“What?” Jared asked, standing.

“Dee has been blowing up my phone for the last week or so now. I always wait until Y/N is asleep so I don’t make her worry. She must have heard me when she got up at some point.” Jensen was pacing now.

“What does Dee want now?” Misha asked.

“She’s been on and on about how we left things and I said I’d get her the part as the witch if she would stop talking about it and leave us be.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell Y/N this…” Jared said, taking Jensen’s shoulder.

“No. I didn’t think about it until it was too late. Then Dee showed up a few days early for this episode and I haven’t had a moment to tell Y/N since. I can’t imagine how she must think this is going right now…and it makes so much sense about how she’s been all day.” Jensen said, sitting in a chair, running both hands up through his hair and resting his elbows on his legs.

Misha adds, “She’s strong, Jensen. Just be patient.”

You let the guys have their moment as you all get ready to film the rest of the scene. You finally hit your marks and everyone carried on with their lines. The director yelled for another break as he took a phone call.

Jared finds you sitting on a bench, staring off into the distance as you ponder how to bring up to Jensen that you know about the conversations with Dee. He sits down beside you, offering a soda. “Hey, you okay?”

You force a smile. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

Jared takes a sip of his drink, studying you. “Is it about Dee?”

You look at him with remorse. “How did you know?” even though you knew how.

He shrugs. “I’ve seen how you look when she’s mentioned. Plus, Jensen’s been worried about you.”

You sigh, leaning back. “It’s just… everything feels so complicated. I never wanted to be in this position.”

Jared nods understandingly. “Relationships are never easy, especially with all the history and emotions involved. But you need to talk to Jensen. He cares about you, a lot.”

You took in his words. You care about Jensen, more than anything, maybe even more than your job now.

“I just can’t let their history and emotions, whatever may still be there, affect me again. I can’t do it. I love… I love him, Jared. More than anything. But I don’t know how to let him love me when I know he deserves someone who… looks like… her.” Your voice broke.

Jared let you have your moment, placing a hand on your back and rubbing gently.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in the middle of all of this. I–”

“Don’t do that, you’re fine. What are friends for?” Jared interrupted smiling at you. “I don’t know what Dee’s plans are or why she wants to be on this show, but I do know that he loves you. He wouldn’t have flown to Washington for you or stayed to make sure you were ok if he didn’t. He hangs on to the people he loves, and he will do whatever he can to make sure they are happy. He may even still want Dee to be happy, but like you said, it’s complicated. I guess you just have to push through it with him and see if it becomes less complicated the more you both open up to each other.” Jared was being real and genuine with you, nodding understandably.

“It is complicated.” Jensen was behind you both, making you jump. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but if I could just explain…” He stepped toward you and Jared, softness in his eyes.

“I’m going to find Misha and rehearse some lines.” Jared gave you a smile and headed off.

After he left, you turned to Jensen. You started to talk but heard someone approaching, distracting you. Jensen took your hand and led you to the director. “Are we done for the day?” Jensen asked, your hand still locked by his. The director looked tired and weary.

“Yeah. Come back early tomorrow to finish though. A camera man broke some equipment, we’ll get it fixed by morning.” He hitched up his pants and stalked off.

Jensen wasted no time taking you back to your trailer. He waved off your assistant as he pulled open the trailer door and helped you inside. He shut the door and sat you on the counter.

“Y/N, I shouldn’t have kept the phone calls from you. I wasn’t even trying to, it was just always so late and I’d go back to bed meaning to tell you the next day and you’d be gone bright and early. I know you’re upset, and if it isn’t about Dee, then please tell me what it is.” Jensen looked at you waiting for your reply.

It took you a moment, “Jen, I did feel like you might still have feelings for her.” You hang your head in defeat at your confession. “I’ve been avoiding your affection all day because it’s easier for me to let you go if I don’t engage like that.”

“Do you want to let me go?” Jensen looked sad but sincere.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to keep worrying about her.” You said honestly. “She is perfect, Jensen. She has history with you. You guys shared a life together…”

"Y/N, I want you to know that I'll never go back to Dee. No matter how much of a life we shared or history we had, it will never make up for how much chemistry we never have. You are incredibly beautiful—your curves, your kindness, your wit, and your sensitivity all make you who you are. When I look at you, I see perfection. I see a future, a family, and a life we can build together." He held your chin up to look at you.

“But you broke the restraining order to have her here… How can I belie–” You trailed off. Was this really worth it? You shook your head ready to leave for the night.

“I broke the order for the episode. After that, she will leave the area and go back to Moscow. I got it in writing. I had every intention of telling you about it before she came to set, but you were always gone early, and she arrived early for her scenes.” He started pacing again. “The director even got her to sign a copy for the network.”

You looked up at him now, feeling awful that you didn’t just talk to him about it when he came back into the room the other night from his call. You hopped off the counter, grabbing his hand mid pace, “I’m so sorry…I’m just worried about losing you. I’ve never had someone care for me the way you do, ever. In fact, the way you, Jared, and Misha all do. I love you all deeply.” You stepped closer to him, your forehead at his chin, speaking to his chest as you wrap his arms around your waist. He backed you both up to rest his back on the counter, bringing his face level with yours. You looked from one eye to his lips to the other eye, and sighed. “Jensen Ross, I love you with every fiber of my being. You make me feel safe and loved…” you paused, looking at your hands.

“When I’m not trying to protect you without you knowing.” He sighed in realization as he bent his head to meet your gaze. You nodded.

“I’m afraid of losing you, too. You are the highlight of my days, hearing you laugh, watching you kick ass in your scenes, seeing how you interact with the crew and people in general. You are kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. You go out of your way to make sure people feel loved on their birthdays, friends or acquaintances alike. You take over for assistants if they are sick, when and where you can. When your laugh falls on my ears, I swear I’ve entered heaven. And then I see your eyes light up at my stupid jokes or hear your wittiness in response to our dumb pranks and I’m amazed by you all over again. From the moment you stepped into that audition room, I’ve been head over heels for you. Dee may be pretty, but you, darling, you are so much more than that, and I wouldn’t trade you for anyone. Not these beautiful eyes…” He stares deeply into your eyes, his emerald green growing dark. “Not your vibrant ginger hair…” He grabs a small handful and smells it, sighing. “Not your spunky personality…” He tickles your ribs. “None of it for anything.” He had your face in his hands now, your hands resting on his neck in response with the quickening beat of his heart thudding against them. You were crying.

He wiped a tear from your cheek and asked you with a low and soft voice. “Can I kiss you now?”

You didn’t hesitate, you kissed him fiercely, breaking the kiss just for a second, lips barely still touching, both of your breaths heavy. “I’m not normally the jealous type, but this time, what’s mine is mine.”

Jensen's eyes darkened with a possessive intensity. He pulled you even closer, his grip firm and unyielding. “You’re damn right,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. Even if I have to spend the rest of our lives putting every broken piece of you back together.”

He claimed your lips again, this time with a fiery passion that left you breathless. His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your face is flushed with passion as you moan at his kisses.

His kisses trail down your jawline to your neck, each one searing your skin and making you shiver. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.

You moan again, softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Show me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Jensen lifted you effortlessly, pressing you against the wall. His mouth found yours again, and the kiss deepened, tongues tangling in a fervent dance. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours. His hands slid under your shirt, the sensation of his large hands on your bare skin sending a jolt of desire through you.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes rake over your exposed body with a hungry gaze. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

You reached for his shirt, pulling it off impatiently, needing to feel his skin against yours. The moment it was gone, his lips were on you again, kissing, biting, marking you as his.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice a gravelly whisper in your ear.

“I’m yours, Jensen,” you breathed, arching against him, your body aching for more.

He groaned, the sound vibrating through you. “Let’s see if your body feels the same way,” he growled. With a determined look, Jensen slid his hands down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs tightened around his waist as he carried you across the room. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

He reached the bed and gently laid you down, his body following yours. The mattress dipped under your combined weight as he hovered over you, his strong arms bracketing your head.

Jensen’s lips found yours again, his kiss deep and consuming. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you with a possessive hunger. He broke the kiss, his breath coming in heavy pants as he looked down at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You reached up, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him back down for another heated kiss. “Show me,” you challenged, your voice breathless with anticipation.

Jensen’s grin widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “With pleasure,” he growled.

His hands moved with practiced ease, slipping beneath your waistband, pulling down your pants and underwear in one swift motion. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, laid bare before him, his eyes darkening with raw desire.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands caressing your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them.

The intensity of his gaze never wavered as he leaned down, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, moving closer to your core. The anticipation built within you, a fiery ache that made you writhe beneath him.

When his mouth finally met your most sensitive spot, a gasp tore from your lips. His tongue worked with expert precision, teasing and pleasing, pushing you closer to the edge with every stroke. Your hands gripped the sheets, your back arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you.

Jensen looked up, his eyes locking with yours as he brought you to the brink, his possessive hold on you unwavering. “You’re mine,” he said again, his voice a husky whisper against your heated skin.

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, a moan of his name escaping your lips as you fell apart under his touch. He didn’t relent, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, breathless mess.

Jensen moved back up your body, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that tasted of your own desire. He positioned himself at your entrance, pausing, making you beg. “Jensen, please”, you scratched at his back, digging into him to get him closer to you. His gaze never leaves yours as he pushes inside, filling you completely, gasps escape your bodies.

Every thrust, every touch, spoke of his need to claim you, to make you his in every way possible.

The intensity of your rocking built once more, and you clung to him, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Jensen’s name was a mantra on your lips, his own deep, guttural moans mingling with yours, creating a symphony of desire. “Y/N! Oh, God!”

The world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in each other. He filled your body as he released, and you succumb to the climax and warmth of his fluids, pulsing around him.

You both lay tangled in bed sheets, you are holding his head on your chest, running fingers through his tousled brown hair. He kisses your stomach, hugging you closely. “I love you, babe.” You say as he lays face to face with you. “I love you, princess. Never forget that.”

[alexanderlightweight]

I feel slightly greedy prompting three weeks in a row, but I just read the new chapter of Elysium's Tears that you uploaded to a03 and it is utterly incredible. To put it lightly.

If this plot bunny inspires you at all, I would absolutely adore the chance to read a snippet in that universe of Ragnor and/or Cat seeing Malec together for the first time - just the sheer craziness of them seeing a nephilim, one of the Clave's most valued treasures, not to mention the whole Lightwood thing, happily collared and kneeling at their best friend's feet, casually informing Magnus of secrets the Clave would straight-up murder to keep while just ... nibbling mango from his fingers.

(That was a very long run-on sentence, apologies. Also, I was mostly just going for vibes not specific plot points in that promptlet. Also, again, three weeks in a row so feel free to ignore ❤️)

hey Laws, feel free to prompt every week and you know i love vibes! this was a lot of fun and definitely is going in the next chapter of elysium's tears though i'll probably need a magnus redecorating his loft scene at some point lol. this is cat's pov because it was more fun that way! i hope you enjoy it! thank you for prompting

lumine

-

It’s been nearly three weeks since Magnus all but dropped off the face of the world.  Normally, Cat wouldn’t be so concerned if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been asking for her help securing an absurdly long list of rare potion ingredients.

It’s with a case of beer and a box of snacks that she portals over to his place, only to be gently redirected by the interior wards.

The primary wards still allow her access, but she’s portaled into what Magnus was once planning to use as a greeting hall. She wonders just what spell, potion or sex experiments Magnus is conducting that require such an elaborate and delicate array.

It’s with growing amusement that she taps her foot and counts out just how long it’s taking Magnus to respond. The amusement turns to concern when she feels Magnus’ magic reach out with intent, demanding she prove her identity to him in a way he rarely feels the need to use.

It’s without a second thought that Cat reaches back, letting Magnus weigh her soul against his knowledge of her and his magic presses against her, almost in relief.

“Cat—” Magnus murmurs and his voice is hoarse and he looks tired and worn but smug.

Magnus looks victorious, in a way Cat has never seen before.

“You’re okay?” She asks, because that will always be the first and most important question. Anything else can alway wait.

“Oh Cat, I’ve never been better.”

—

The amount of layers and traps that she has to step through is intense and Cat resolves to make Magnus visit her until he’s finished with whatever he’s doing.

“Alexander is resting at the moment—” Magnus is murmuring though he’s quite forgotten to explain just who Alexander is. It could be anything from a weekend frolic to a new snake or a stray cat that Magnus has gotten attacked to.

“And Alexander is?” Cat asks leadingly but it goes nowhere because Magnus just barks a laugh, a sharp, dark noise of pure avarice.

“He’s mine Cat, in a way I didn’t think could ever be possible.”

Magnus opens the wards and finally lets her through the last step and Cat walks in and stares. Magnus’ entire loft looks different, a fortress on the outside and an oasis of luxury on the inside. There are chaises and sofas and thick rugs with plush cushions and throws. It looks decadent and soft in a way Cat doesn’t normally associate with Magnus.

On one of the thick rugs, shirtless and dappled in lurid bruises and golden sunlight, a young nephilm lays sleeping. He’s aesthetically pleasing and is defined in a way that says he is heavily trained and very capable.

Cat waits for a moment, trying to understand how three weeks could possibly have turned into something like this and then she sees the nephilim wake up. Unfairly long lashes flutter and Cat sees a glimpse of icy blue, and then she sees it.

Lines upon lines of hoarfrost blue, the silver of an angelic power Cat only barely managed to witness and she understands exactly why Magnus’ lair is warded so thoroughly.

“How did you get him here?” Cat finds herself asking because it’s one thing for Magnus to try and lure in a nephilim curse with Elysium’s Tears. Magnus would think nothing of seducing such a person, not if it would give him a glimpse of something to look forward to.  It’s the layout, the way Magnus is covetously watching his Alexander’s every breath.

Something else is going on beyond a glimpse of what could be.

Magnus walks over and kneels, reaching down to kiss Alexander’s sleeping for, biting his lip until the bluelight fade and he groggily nuzzles into Magnus’ chest.

“Lovely, I’d like someone to check you over. Hmm, sweetheart?”

Magnus’ voice is soothing and sincere and tinted with a jagged edge of possessiveness.

“Oh—” hazel eyes blink at her, awareness growing. “Cat, then? It’s early to meet her. This isn’t normally one of her days off.”

It sends a chill up Cat’s spine to hear such a remark, especially when the only reason she’s free is because she used magic to get the day off.

BEcause she wanted to check on Magnus.

“All the better, Alexander. A fresh start for you, another difference to what you saw.”

Cat finds nothing truly wrong with him, besides the fact that whatever horror resides in his body and eats away at the future is a ravenous beast.

“He needs to eat more.” Cat murmurs, low because Magnus’ Alexander only stayed awake long enough for Cat to finish her work and now he stretched out across Magnus’ lap. His long legs thrown over the sofa arm and his face burrowed into Magnus’ stomach.

“Alexander does have a habit to miss meals when he dreams.”

Magnus gives her a pointed look and Cat knows exactly what he means.Then he rubs his hands through curls and tugs on them until he’s being pouted up at.

“A snack, Alexander.” Magnus croons, like he’s taming and rewarding some fierce, snappish beast. “Try, for me.”

His boy is exhausted, from the dreams or whatever left the bruises across his body Cat doesn’t know. She does watch, surprised as Magnus summons a bowl of frozen mango. His boy whines at the cold, unable to bite into it and insstead he licks and suckles from Magnus’ fingers. It takes him and agonizing amount of time each piece and his lips and swollen from the cold and from the way he’s making obscene, slick noises, his tongue must be numb as well.

Magnus doesn’t seem to notice how amorous their actions are. All of his focus is on his Alexander, feeding him each piece in such a cruelly intimate manner. It takes forever, the sun stretching high and falling low and then Magnus’ boy falls back asleep, suckling the juice from Magnus’ fingers. Magnus chuckles, something dark and ravenous as he presses his fingers even deeper into his boy’s slack, trusting mouth.

“He’s so good for me—” Magnus is murmuring, almost as if besotted and enchanted and there’s something feral in his tone. “He brought me information that has me, for the first time, ahead of my father.”

The shock of it hits Cat like a glacier pool and she copartmentalizes quickly, locking it away as she tries to focus on Magnus.

“So you’re

“I have all of my magic back again.” Magnus bares his teeth in a snarled grin, “ those pieces I sacrificed to hold him in Edom, it’s all been returned to me. We struck a deal, rather than have my strength be tamed by chaining him.

“Incredibly.” Cat finds herself saying, “I’ll let Ragnor know. You’ll tell us, when you’re ready?”

Magnus nods and leads her back to the entry hall and then he pauses and as she’s about to step through her own portal he interrupts the silence.

“I didn’t find him, Cat.” Magnus lets out a sigh, wonder in the hoarse edge of his breath. “He came to me. Surrendered himself to me and let me stop him from leaving, let me keep him and bind him and he adores me for it. Would worship me in gratitude because he knows I will never let him go.”

Cat nods.

This is all they’ll need to speak of, for now.  She’ll check on Magnus on and off, check on his boy as well, but in the meantime she’ll let Magnus lay his webs and string his boy up and so tightly bound that he can’t even blink without Magnus knowing.

After all, it’s what makes Magnus happy.

[tayananyx]

So I read Percy Jackson:Chalice of the Gods and…let me just get this out of the way: IT WAS FANTASTIC!

From the very first line of the book I was transported back in time to middle school where I walked the halls with my face buried in a PJO book. I missed Percy and his point of view so much that I literally started crying the moment his sarcastic inner monologue uttered its first words. This novel was like a fantasy to me with the return of the golden trio and following their wacky hijinks as they try to do quite possibly one of the hardest things in my opinion: Graduate high school and get into college. 

This book is instantly a five star in my opinion, but there is an aspect of it that really caught my attention and made me think on a deeper level. 

Rick Riordan has never once sugar coated the olympian gods or their ways. He has had to gloss over many details due to the fact that he was writing a middle grade series, but now that Percy and his audience is a little older he is now getting into the fact that the gods are very much morally f’ed up beings. Like I said, he never shied away from this fact with Luke Castellan waging a war against the gods for being so negligent with their children and Percy having to literally ask them to pay their child support as reward for literally saving the damn world. 

But that is only the tip of the iceberg of things the olympians have done. Take the storyline of Chalice of the Gods for example: Ganymede, the cupbearer of the gods had his almighty goblet stolen and if he does not get it back before Zues notices he is dead. When you look at Ganymede, the first thing you think is that ‘Oh, he has such an easy job, just pouring drinks and he gets to be immortal on top of that. Who wouldn’t love that?’ And then you look at him closely and see that he literally has trauma and PTSD from when Zues abducted him and forced him to become the gods cupbearer. He spends his time in Zues’s shadow being in constant fear of him and being sneered at or ignored by other gods. No one cares about his opinion of whether he wants to be there or not because they think as long as he gets to be immortal, why wouldn’t he love it. 

The main villain of the story, Geras (god of old age), even goes as far to blame Ganymede for becoming immortal as though it was his choice anyway. And lets be real for a second, when the options are either be my immortal servant forever or die, I don’t exactly blame him. Don’t even get me started on Hebe and her childish games. It just sounds like world class victim blaming to me. And Zues was just so slimy to me in the few scenes we saw him in this book. With his inflated sense of ego at a banquet that was supposed to be for his mother and the way he openly leers at Ganymede in front of his wife and other gods was just disgusting. But we all knew he was always a pig

The way the gods acted in this book had my skin crawling and the way they used Percy like he was nothing but their personal errand boy had my blood boiling. He was blamed for his own birth and made to make it up to the gods by getting recommendation letters just so he can get into college with his girlfriend, his father barely offered him any help besides using a sea nereid to outsource actually being a parent, and he was used and abused the whole time by these immortal scum without so much as a ‘sorry’ or ‘thank you’. 

At this point Percy should be allowed to cuss all of them out and Rick Riordan is SICK for continually putting Percy through the wringer like this. In that same vein though, I love it and will be patiently waiting for the next installments of Percy trying to get into college.  

[unclewaynemunson]

Wingman Wayne - Ronance Edition pt4 :D | Read from the beginning | Read on ao3

It hasn't even been five minutes since Robin came home from work, when the phone in the hall starts ringing. And she has some suspicions about who the caller might be.

She squints at the phone like it's personally offending her, considers for a few moments to just let it ring – but she can't. She doesn't want to be a completely cruel person, this is already gonna be awful enough as it is.

'Hi,' says Nancy, sounding slightly breathless, when Robin picks up the phone. 'How was your day?'

 'Um – gr...ay.'

'Gray?' Nancy repeats, confused.

Robin flinches. She had meant to say “great” but decided halfway that that would probably sound weirdly enthusiastic regarding the conversation they were about to have so she changed it to “okay” and – yeah. This is embarrassing.

'Yeah – I mean, the weather. Was. Very bad. Lots of rain and shit.' She cringes at herself, talking awkwardly about the goddamn weather, glad that Nancy isn't able to see how beet-red she has gotten so at least some of her dignity will stay intact.

'Tell me about it,' Nancy says, 'I got soaked at least three times today, it was the worst. But I was thinking...' There's a slight pause before Nancy continues, 'If we're feeling optimistic enough to believe the forecasts, it'll clear up by the weekend, so maybe we could go for a walk or something? There's this tea garden at the other side of the woods, I know a nice scenic route from Lover's Lake, what do you think?'

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Robin squeezes her eyes shut. Why, oh why, did Nancy have to come up with the most fucking perfect date idea in existence? God, she can almost touch the scene in her head: walking side-by-side with Nancy, the sun filtering through the leaves and shining a golden light onto Nancy’s curls, her cute nose going slightly red from the early spring sunrays, their arms brushing together every other step until Nancy will feel brave enough to grab Robin's hand and lace their fingers together; the flowers blooming in all kinds of pretty colors in the fields surrounding the tea garden, the taste of mint or some herbal melange on her tongue, Nancy's hands wrapped around her mug as she laughs at something insanely funny Robin is telling her...

No. No. Her stupid brain should most definitely not be going there.

She sighs.

'I have to tell you something,' she blurts out, before weakness can overpower her and make her say something stupid like Yes, this is the best idea ever, I’d love to go with you, can I please kiss you already?

'Oh.'

And in that single word, she can already hear the disappointment dripping from Nancy's voice. Damn it, she hates this so fucking much.

'Yeah, it’s not good... So, um, remember that I told you how my best friend is the one who set me up with you? The one whose boyfriend is Mr. Munson's nephew?'

'Oh God,' Nancy says, sounding truly horrified. 'You're actually in a relationship with him and cheating on him?'

'What – no, God, no!' Robin exclaims. 'Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?!'

'I don't know, you sounded so ominous so I just went straight to worst-case scenario!'

Nancy is perfectly mirroring Robin's own panicked energy and she realizes she has to keep her head cool now if she doesn't want this whole conversation to become even more of a mess.

She takes a deep breath and continues in a somewhat more collected voice, 'Okay, so maybe not worst-worst-case scenario, then. But um... He didn't actually know anything about you when he set us up. So we only found out today that he – Steve – had been trying to set me up with his ex.'

There's a silence. 'Steve Harrington is your best friend?' Nancy then asks.

'Yeah, crazy, right,' Robin confirms. 'I'm really sorry, Nancy. I had so much fun with you last night, seriously. And you're really cool and badass and generally amazing. But I'm not gonna be dating my best friend's ex. I can't do that to Steve. I mean, I basically know everything about what went down between the two of you, and it's not like he harbors any resentment – I actually think he still respects you a lot – but... It still feels wrong, you know?'

There's a sigh, distorted through the phone. 'Yeah, I get that,' Nancy says, in a small voice that's kind of breaking Robin's heart already. 'Honestly, that completely makes sense. And honestly, I wouldn’t want to add to his hurt either. I already did that more than enough, back when - you know.‘ She sighs again. ‘For what it's worth: I had a lot of fun with you, too, yesterday.'

Pt5

Taglist: @munsonsuccubus @messrs-weasley @shrimply-a-menace @booksandsience @sadcanadianwinter @mightbeasleep @theysherobinbuckley

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Do you ever just wish Rio got to see that batshit insane side of Beth she showed the audience? Like it’s less about comedy and more about the tension when it’s just them two, I get that, but she has such golden moments it’s almost a loss we didn’t see his reaction or anything.

Like when they were trying to smuggle boomer to him and he wasn’t complying so she held his grandmas ashes over a dumpster and threatened for that to be the final resting place- fuckinf insane and i love her for it. In my imaginary season 5 because Annie is in jail and Ruby isn’t around to rein in the crazy, I could see her going completely violent in her attempts to get Annie out of prison- she probably spirals and everything but while he’s trying to get his lawyer on the case and get Annie a retrial- she’s trying to bribe to inmates to start a prison riot so Annie can sneak out or some shit

I love her crazy side sm

You’re cracking me up. 😂 Because you’re right, how does he think she achieves all this stuff she keeps doing? Like, he’s had little glimpses. For example, her initial store robbery. I wish they would have kept the scene where he saw her on the security cameras. How she kicked that display over. I’m sure he was like, “Wow, what a woman.” 🤣🤣 And then when she got his Canadian printshop contact shot in the foot, but managed to bring in his funny money on time still, and not get caught. I just wonder what he thought of that. Trying to smooth it over with Mike like, “I’ll up your cut. I got some new bitches.” I’m sure that man is fully aware that she’s absolutely batshit. And he loves it.

Although, is Rio really any better? He’s fucking bananas, too. How he just brought her a gun in a paper bag while taking his son to the park. Or when he hid in a Corvette to spy on her and Dean. And then smashed up Dean’s prized possession. (Hehh, two of them. He smashed Beth, too. She just wasn’t as valuable to Dean as that cheesy bucket.) Don’t even mention the body parts he FedExed to her. Probably kept the tracking number, just in case. And how she was all, “He wants me back 🥰” instead of maybe like, “He’s crazy,” or, “Wow, this man is really unhinged, I should maybe stay away from him permanently.” Nope. She accepted them like they were an Edible Arrangement.

They know they’re both crazy. Just humping on Grandma’s bookshelf with the door open and Rio’s son right outside. Considering that the bathroom was right across the hall and they could have easily gone in there like normal people. Nope. He just stuffed his whole hand under her dress and then wiped it on Grandma’s wall afterwards. I wonder if she went back out to the party to get her purse? How embarrassing would that be? She took forever in “the bathroom,” and now she and Rio are walking out just minutes apart. She’s really fair so her chest was probably all red from sex flush. She probably said she had diarrhea, grabbed her boxy little purse, forgot her cardigan, and peeled out of that place ASAP as possible. 😂😂😂

[rom-e-o]

“Enact it with me? Please?” (Scrooge x OC NSFW Fic)

You know the whole Booktok trend of romance novel readers asking their partners to enact the scene where a character seductively leans against the door to flirt with/kiss their partner?

Well, when Constance and some of the other ladies get inspired by a romance novel from their new book club, she can’t resist asking him for a bit of a favor.

Of course, he doesn’t mind...obliging. ;)

Also posted on AO3. This is an 18+ fic!  MINORS, DO NOT INERACT!

Fic under cut.

As soon as he walked in the front door, he heard giggling.

Scrooge smiled at the sound, acknowledging how coming how to the sounds of sweet mirth was becoming more and more of a normality for him. It was more common than not to hear his lover Constance’s musical laughter fill the hallways. It was a beautiful and energizing sound, even after a long day of toiling stiff-legged at his desk in the counting-house.

He removed his hat and coat, effectively shedding the stress of the day as he left the more formal garments on the coatrack near the door.

Prudence, who had loyally walked at his side with her usual saintly gait, charged ahead to assume a position by the fireplace. She grabbed one of her newest bones from the butcher and marched it to the fireplace like a show-pony showing off a brand-new prize ribbon.

“Ebenezer?” her voice called inquisitively from somewhere beyond the foyer. Her lightly-accented Brooklyn cadence was nothing sort of saccharine, which he knew was a sign that she was up to delightful mischief.

“I just got in,” he called to her, the timbre of his voice deep, filling the halls of the mansion as easily as the toll of a church bell.

“Oh, wonderful!” she returned, “Can you come here? Pretty please?”

Goodness, she sounded impish, and he made no endeavor to hide his curiosity about it.

“I know that tone, I’m afraid,” he started to playfully say as he drifted up the stairs. “What am I in for?”

“Just hurry!” Constance called back.

Chuckling to himself, he slipped both hands in his pockets and kept a steady pace up the stairs. “A moment, dear. Where are you?”

“The sitting-room!”

As he reached the top of the stairs, followed the sound of her laughter and, sure enough, found her curled up in front of the room’s fireplace. Instead of resting upon one of the room’s many chairs or loveseats, each one adorned with enough pillows to please a fleet of show dogs, her exquisite form was curled up on the rug before the room’s roaring hearth. Even in profile, flames licked delightful shapes over the slopes and planes of her body.

She was dressed casually in a cornflower-blue satin gown, a color that mimicked the same hue as her eyes.

“I want to try something,” she said, the bottom half of her face concealed by an open book. Even though her lips were concealed by the pages, he could clearly see from her dimpled cheeks that she was grinning ear to ear.

“Hello to you, too,” he said playfully, crossing his arms. “My goodness, I leave for one walk and come back to the most coquettish grin I think I’ve ever seen.”

Out of curiosity, he glimpsed the cover of the book as he stepped closer. It took quite a few steps (he was still fighting the internal battle about finally admitting he needed glasses) but as soon as the text became readable to him, he couldn’t resist having a tiny smirk cross his face.

In flowery script, the book’s title read: “The Dowager’s Bodyguard.”

“Well, you’ve been doing some reading,” he teased, reaching out to run his fingers along the dusty-pink spine, which was finished with golden accents. It was a very pretty book, but clearly one of a certain taste. Gently, he plucked it from her fingertips and rotated it around so he could read the text on the pages.

Almost immediately, his brows shot up in amusement, then furrowed in intrigue in response to the text on the page:

He lips sought her with the fury of a storm ravaged a coast it had spent a season away from. His body crashed into hers with twice the power, knocking his love back against the door frame. Thankfully, the wide breadth of his chest was there to catch her and keep her pinned.

“Oh, Oscar, you cannot…” Alma pleaded, although the sound was muffled against his lips. “We are not yet wed.”

“To hell with vows and ceremony,” he growled in her ear. “Bread and circuses, nothing more.”

“O-Oscar, please…” she said, though her moans betrayed her persona of modesty.

“What do you want?”

“I-I want…”

“Look at me while you answer," he growled.

“I want to make you—”

The rest was quite…salacious in nature.

“Some interesting reading, indeed,” Ebenezer said, giving his lover an amused look over the top of the pages.

“Isn’t it just fine?” she asked, standing up to meet his gaze. "Hela recommended it to me! She loaned it to me from a personal collection, too. So, please be gentle!”

“Hela did, you sat?” he asked, then sighed playfully. He shut the blood with a one-handed flick of the wrist.

Constance blinked suddenly, then blushed. “Oh, was that too much insight into your niece’s head?”

A bit, he supposed, but he was nothing if not mature enough for it to not bother him.

“Oh, worry not, my dear,” he said quickly, wanting to squash any concerns of hers as quickly as possible. “Why, novels like this are popular for a reason! Everyone reads them.”

“Everyone?” she asked. “Including you?”

He didn’t answer the second question. “It’s nothing to gawk over. Perfectly normal, I’d say."

“Mmhmm.”

He wondered if Harry knew, and if he should bless his nephew with the knowledge. Not to be a tattletale, but to provide the man some helpful insight into some lovely surprises for his wife. Then again, they already had a lovely child to call their own, so perhaps he was already aware.

“We have a book club that Ethel, Hela and I started a month or so ago,” Constance continued to explain. “Some other ladies are joining too! The two women from the Festive Fund for the Poor – what are their names? – anyway, they’re joining too! Also, Mrs. Jenkins is going to join us! Oh, but don’t tell Tom…he might combust from embarrassment.”

“A club?” he asked in intrigue. How had he not noticed that? Was he falling too much into work that he was failing to notice such obvious things as he lover’s new hobby? The thought troubled him slightly. However, he didn’t have too much time to mull it over, as Constance was quick to return to the point.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I rushed you here,” Constance started nervously, poking her hair behind her ears.

“I’ll never pass up a chance to be with you,” he said with a shrug, “But I am a bit curious about the occasion, I’ll admit.”

“Well, um, there is a part in the book…”

Oh. Ohhh.

Backtracking a bit, he drifted across the room to a small mahogany and gold end table that sat adjacent to the chaise. Ebenezer leaned against the piece, crossing his arms and ankles in amusement as he watched her. “Yes?”

“W-Where the main character, um, heroine, is in her study, and her friend—”

“Friend?” he asked, eyes sparkling playfully. “They appear to be more than friends, from what little I glimpsed.”

She swallowed. “Right, um, yes. He comes in and leans against the doorframe with his arm up. Like, um…”

Constance was around 5’7”, but still shorter than Ebenezer’s towering 6’4”. As such, she looked rather adorable when she reached her arm up and tried to mimic the pose, especially when there was nothing for her hand to latch onto it. It looked more like she was a mime trying to reach for an invisible bag of sugar on an equally invisible kitchen shelf.

He chuckled slightly, and she puckered at him.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” she challenged lightly.

“Can’t help it,” he teased. “You are a sight.”

Constance tried to eye him sternly, but there was no venom behind her stare, no matter how much she tried to play the part by squinting her eyes and furrowing her mouth. Ebenezer only stared back at her with a knowing smirk.

“Continue,” he said, urging her on with a wave of the hand. “Please.”

“W-Well, her friend—er, companion, approaches her. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, then runs a hand through his hair. Then, he gets really close, puts an arm up on the doorway, leans in, and…”

She brought a hand up to her only neck slowly. “Grabs her like this, around the neck to hold her in place.”

“Heavens.”

“Not hard! Gently. Then, um…yes.”

Of course, he could fill in the blank from there. Yet, he eyed her curiously. “And you’d like me to…?”

“Enact it with me?” she asked, her tone hiking up at the end, so it was more of a question than a request. “Please?”

She certainly wouldn’t force him, but it was easy to see from the way she bit her lip and eyed him expectantly with her hands nervously tangled behind her back, that she was very interested in the idea.

Thankfully, he was interested as well.

“I’m not sure how well I’ll measure up to a fictional bodyguard,” he admitted with a light grin as he went to undo his cuff links, “But, as always, your wish is my command.”

Ebenezer stood at his full height, starting with his left sleeve, and rolled it up easily until it settled at the top of his forearm.

He did the task slowly, making an unintentional show of it, not realizing how the simple action grabbed the woman’s interest and held it captive.

Fold by fold, the bare expanse of his forearms was exposed.

“O-Oh, my,” she said, watching and giggling at the sight. Her hands flew to her lips as she tried and failed to suppress a smile. She even giggled girlishly, like a schoolgirl who had found a love note atop her writing desk.

Upon looking at her curiously and seeing she was already a wide-eyed, simpering mess, he looked at her in amusement.

“…Truly?” he asked, eyes flitting down to the sleeves he’d simply rolled to his elbow. “This?”

“Yes,” she said, almost sounding pitiful.

To say the man was gobsmacked would be an understatement.

“…It’s that simple?”

“Yeees,” she admitted, head falling into her hands. Goodness, her cheeks were as red as her strawberry- blonde hair.

Truthfully, the man wasn’t sure whether he should he flattered or dismayed by the reaction. “Is the bar so low for men that little things like this are enough to fantasize over?”

“Yeeeeeeees,” she groaned in admission, face sagging further into her hands. Then, she gasped playfully, as if she’d been caught red-handed in the middle of committing some crime. The gasp was so convincing that Ebenezer even tensed for a moment, expecting something was wrong.

However, this trepidation fluttered away like a summer cicada when she twirled around in mock dismay, hand pressed to her forehead in faux shame.

“I’ve said too much,” she admitted, her voice nearly reaching a falsetto. “I’ve given you the keys to the kingdom. Now you can run rampant and woo all the ladies and men you want!”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks.

“A bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Ebenezer reminded her, trying to keep his stern persona in check.

“Oh, woe is me! I’ve betrayed my kind!” she cried, swaying again on her feet. 

“Your kind?” he asked in spirited confusion. “Whom would that be? Overdramatic redheads from New York?”

“Those who worship the beauty of the male form,” she supplied, sweeping her arm in his general direction. “Forms like yours.”

“Mine?” he guffawed, fingers splaying over his chest.

“Yes, yours! And the Grecian gods. Same thing, really.”

Crossing his arms, his shoulders slumped in mock exasperation at her flirtatious jabs. Truly, he never tired of them, but he was nothing if not humble (even to a fault) sometimes.

“Connie, my dear, please…”

She threw her arms up and playfully fainted on the coach. She shook her head against the surface of a harlequin-printed pillow. “They’ll lock me up, I know it. My life is over. Over, I say!”

Ebenezer rolled his eyes at the adorably theatrical display. Constance was nothing if not a classic American lady, and as such, she could be a little more … outlandish than the typical English woman. Not that he minded this little cultural shift in mannerisms. Where she lifted, he grounded, and they made a nice match. Besides, her antics were amusing.

“I believe you need to be in the door frame for the rest of our enactment, dear,” he reminded her gently, pointing to the room’s open entryway. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

Constance let out a muffled squeal of excitement against the pillow before she bounced up and darted beneath the door frame. “Y-Yes, indeed! Um, here?”

“You tell me,” Ebenezer said, a soft kindness to his voice as he watched her. “I’m putty in your hands.”

He watched her as she experimentally leaned against the door frame, placing both hands behind her back and letting her spine unfurl against the polished wood. Once she caught him staring, the woman bit her lip playfully and gave her shoulders an extra push back. The effect caused her ample breasts to bob against the perilous restraint of her dress, its wetted sheen already doing wonders for highlighting the beautiful body beneath.

Once satisfied with her pose, she nodded and gave a welcoming sashay of her hips. “Okay, ready."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, sir.”

Scrooge hadn’t anticipated the effect the word ‘sir’ would have, but an alarming rush of blood to surge concurrently to his face and to anatomy below his beltline.

Clearing his throat, he walked toward her briskly. With his long legs, he was able to traverse the space between them in less than five steps. With each advance, Constance seemed to press her back further into the frame, but head tilting downward and smile widening in anticipation.

Once he was before her, the height difference between them became further magnified. Slowly, Ebenezer lifted his hand to her elbow. Not breaking contact for a second, his large hand skimmed the entire length of her arm before crossing over her freckled décolleté. Each brush of his fingertips along the sensitive skin left tingles in its wake, and she shivered inadvertently. Still, the magnetism between them pulled them closer, despite the anticipation making their movements slow and tentative.

With prolonged slowness and the utmost gentility, his hand continued its path north to the smooth column of her neck. Careful not to squeeze, his fingers had no issue wrapping the circumference, the warmth from his palm reinvigorating the pear and lily perfume she’d spritzed herself with in the morning.

“Like this?” he asked, his thumb skimming the edge of her jawline. By now, her head was angled up to meet his, her red lips parted slightly in anticipation of upcoming contact.

Constance averted her eyes shyly. “Y-Y…”

His other hand came up to clutch the dip in her waist.

“Look at me-” he commanded, voice breathy, “-when you answer.”

The sharp intake of breath that followed was nothing short of sensual. 

He watched her carefully, watching the rise and fall of her chest to see the air slide in and out of her lungs. On the next inhale, he leaned in, using his hand to pull her body to his. Their bodies slotted together effortlessly, his lips covering hers in a rush of movement. 

Their noses mashed together and their teeth clanged, but neither cared. As their lips met, Ebenezer’s deft fingers stroked up and down the column of her left, testing every inch of skin to make sure all the most sensitive swatches were paid proper worship. Constance moaned, tilting her head back and angling her jaw more to accommodate his skilled movements.

“Ebenezer—” she gasped, before her mouth was covered by his again. Her hands flew from their position behind her back and to his head, tangling fast in the slicked-back silver locks.

With her lips preoccupied, she could only moan when his other hand drifted from her waist and up to her chest. He gave one of her breasts an experimental squeeze, and chuckled when she arched her body in response.

“Mmm. Very good,” he purred softly.

His fingers walked upward to the low, scoop-shaped neckline of her dress. The buttons keeping the fabric clasped were small and delicate. Normally, such small clasps were infuriating to try to meticulously open cleanly when trying to undress her in a moment of passion. Somehow, he always ended up tugging one of the delicate prongs off, or unravelling a thread from pulling too hard (something she routinely teased him about). However, on this occasion, the smooth satin material that coated each little clasp made it almost concerningly easy for him to undo them. With a light pull on the fabric, the blue swath parted and revealed her ample cleavage.

One hand slipped beneath the top of her breastband to fully cup one of the soft mounds. She shuddered in delight, the press of her hips becoming more insistent against the growing bulge between his legs.

All it took was a few strokes of his thumb atop the swell to harden her nipple, causing the pebbled tip to press into the warmth of his palm.

The next time their lips parted, she was quick to untangle her hands from the back of his head. She moved them to the buttons of his waistcoat, then to the pearlescent buttons of his shirt.

“O-On the couch,” she said breathlessly, pushing the fabric to the floor. “Now, please.”

He gave a chuckle of triumph at her plea. He bent quickly at the waist to snake one arm beneath her knees and another securely about her waist. Even at his age, he was able to lift her as easily as if he’d been a man in his thirties or forties.

With a yelp of delight, she allowed herself to be whisked away by the dashing man. After kicking the door shut with his foot to avoid any unwelcome interruptions, he carried her bridal-style over to a moss-green chaise near the fireplace. There, he deposited her body gently, positioning her legs so they dangled over the edge of the cushioned arm.

She kicked them back and forth lightly, giggling as his hands went to her knees to massage them.

There, in that moment, he took a beat to admire her.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

The prone position made it easy for him to lean over her, eyes devouring the sight of her exposed breaths and flame-kissed face. Gods, she was angelic. There were goddesses rendered in marble less perfect than her, in his eyes.

“Ebenezer, I want you,” she pleaded, her voice soft. One of her hands came to her chest, manicured nails stimulating and teasing one of her nipples. The way his gaze burned into her so hungrily spurred her on, and she reached down to hike up her skirt, petticoats crinkling.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“I need you inside me,” she said, flailing behind her head for one of the accent pillows she knew was somewhere on the chaise. Once she found one, she tried to wiggle it under her hips. “Please?”

“Yes, yes,” he agreed, his own hand rushing to meet hers. Gods, she could have asked for anything in that moment, and he would have bent over backwards to give it to her.

He helped her secure the pillow snugly under her hips, making sure she was comfortable before proceeding.

“Is this alright, love?” he asked, stroking her face with the tenderness of glassblower handling their latest crystalline creation.

“Perfect,” she whispered eyes brightening at his tenderness. “Thank you for checking.”

As she tugged up the hem of her dress, he lifted one of her legs and dropped a kiss on her ankle. His mouth then worked it was up one of her legs. Along the way, scars and bruises from past abuse coiled around the appendages like ribbons. The raised marks ranged in color from deep purple to a light silvery sheen, similar to his hair. Each one marked where someone had tried to hurt her, but she had resisted and healed. For a long time, looking at the injuries made him feel anger or melancholy that she had suffered such brutality.

Yet, so long as the scars were on her body and a part of her, he wanted her to feel no ounce of shame about hiding them from him. So, he worshipped each inch of scar tissue with his mouth, reassuring her of her beauty with thousands of kisses.

“Mmm, Ebenezer…” she keened, turning her head to giggle against the fabric. “You’re teasing me!”

“Am I?” he asked cheekily, giving one of her thighs a squeeze.

“Y-Yes,” she admitted, “And you know it, you rake!”

Her free leg lifted to give him a teasing kick on the bum. He yelped in brief surprise before seizing the other ankle, releasing another peal of mirth from her lips.

“Hm, I wonder…” he mused aloud, his voice lowering to a seductive drawl. His hand inched up the side of her leg until he was close to the apex of her hip. “These interesting books you read. You seem to enjoy them.”

After giving the supple flesh a squeeze, he gave her a light spank, which pulled the most beautiful cry from her throat.

“Do you think of me when you read them?” he asked wickedly, smirking as her face lit up with renewed embarrassment.

“E-Ebenezer…” she moaned, tossing her head back in response to the pleasure pain. He could see her hips start to work forward toward his hips, guided by lust to seek friction.

Speaking of friction, his own cock was beginning to put painful strain on the seam of his trousers.

“Tell me,” Scrooge ordered, reaching down to undo his trousers. The relief was instant as he allowed his erection to arc proudly toward his lovely, the tip engorged reddish-purple with lust. His cock spring free from a thatch of salt-and-pepper curls that, on each down thrust, always scrubbed her clit perfectly.

“O-Of course I do…” she trailed off, a sheen of perspiration giving her an added aura of radiance. “I-I always think about you touching me in those ways."

He positioned himself between her perfect legs, hissing at the heat and moisture of her vulva. Even with just the tip of his arousal pushing against her, he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts collected. "You only 'think' about it, dear?"

"I-I try to use my own hands to touch myself, but it never feels as good as you. Never—ah—!”

At that moment, he bucked into her softly. He had only plunged an inch or so inside, but it was enough for him to bite his lip in a futile attempt to stifle a curse. Heavens, she made him feel like a inexperienced teenager, even now! He felt naïve, but also...youthful. Invigorated.

He'd intended to start slowly and then add length with following thrusts, slowly working up to her taking his entire length. Constance, however, didn’t fancy this approach. Once his engorged phallus slipped between her damp folds, she needed all of him.

One of her legs rose to wrap around his svelte waist and tug him closer, her heel urging him deep by nudging him at the base of his spine. Unable to resist, he succumbed to her command and sank into her to the hilt.

“B-Bloody hell, you are magnificent…” he stammered. His head hung between his shoulders as he stared down at her, hands moving to her wrists to pin her. “Incredible…”

Bodies fully connected, both took a moment to catch their breath, savoring the pressure and heat of the moment. He started a slow rhythm moments later, spurred by the eager shaking of her hips.

Her cheeks were red, and her brow furrowed in concentration as she drew back her hips for a moment before rolling them back into his pelvis. The surge of desire and pressure on her clitoral hood from his coarse hair loosed a deep sigh that bordered dangerously on a sob.

“So good…” she said, bracing her hands against the chaise as she increased her pace. Even though his hands were upon her wrists, keeping her safely grounded to the chaise as he picked up his pace, she still arced her bare breasts against his furred chest. 

Gods, he adored how she clung to him. The feeling of her trembling thighs around his core and her trembling fingertips...if it could be bottled, he'd choose to remain intoxicated off it for the remained of his days, consequences be damned. Even after multiple coupling, he still swooned over how she loved to hold and cradle him as much as he did her. How when they were together, the passion she felt was so barely contained that, more often than not, they ripped seams in the bedsheets or knocked items off desks with the pace of their lovemaking.

As usual, her wish was his command.

“S-So...ah! Mmph! I…want more of you…”

He continued his pace, angling himself in a way that he knew her body responded favorably to. For better leverage, he pressed his face down and into the crook of her neck. With each thrust, he growled into her ear, the orgasmic tension mounting inside him. The pleasure tightened swiftly like a screw being twisted tighter and tighter, until he was ready to pop.

“You’re so perfect,” he husked, teeth scraping the flesh of her throat. “So fucking perfect.”

As his pace became frantic, he plunged deeper, the tip of his cock finally finding her cervix. Her response was immediate, the muscles in her stomach flexing as she pushed her hips as hard and fast into him as she could.

“Y-Yes, right there!” she begged, tossing her head back. Downy baby hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks as passion carved the most beautiful expression on her face. “Oh, please don’t stop—r-right there! Keep going!”

He adjusted his stance slightly, grinding his hips with piston-like precision at the same angle that had made her cry out. All the while, he watched her face and body for signs; his eyes fine-tuned to the telltale signals that she was close. He could feel his own orgasm approaching quickly, and if he kept up his current pace, he would shatter soon.

“C-Connie,” he pleaded breathlessly, reaching between her legs. Reaching under her skirts, he easily found the little nub of nerves he was looking for, so engorged with blood and lust that it was poking out past its hood that usually concealed it. With the pad of his thumb, he began working tight circled into the spot, moving his hips to match the ebb and flow.

“O-Oh my god,” she panted, flexing her wrists against his grip. “Ah, hah, I’m going to come soon. Oh, my god, Ebenezer, I going to…I'm already so...”

He nodded in agreement, feeling perspiration beginning to gather at his brow. “I know, dear. Come on, it’s okay. Come.”

The signs intensified. The fluttering of her knees as she struggled to keep her legs open, the way she began to breathe steadily through her nose, and the way her pupils began to blow out. He held her gaze, wanting to stare into her eyes when she unfurled from pleasure.

Then, with a rise of her chest and one last swirl of his skilled thumb, she was gone.

Constance yelled her lover’s name as her body convulsed and tightened around him like a hot fist. Her orgasm shook her in waves, rhythmically tightening and going lax in random spurts for almost half a minute. Right after she went over the edge, he was quick to follow, how own body tightening in one white-hot moment of pleasure pain.

He growled possessively against her as he finished, muttering her name and over as he ground into her. Ebenezer continued to thrust into her as long as he could through the orgasm until he could move no longer, his brain unable of responding to anything other than the primal urge to thoroughly seed the woman beneath him. Only then did he still, allowing himself to fill her completely while they rode out the rest of the blissful union together.

Their breaths came in pants, both hearts racing in tandem.

Even so, that didn’t stop her from opening her arms and inviting him to lay atop her.

Eventually, when he trusted his legs enough to move, he pulled out of her. Moving as steadily as he could on legs that felt more like they were made of licorice rather then bone, he climbed over the arm and joined her on the chaise. Flopping into the vacant space between her and the back of the piece, both chuckled as they wound their arms around each other and embraced.

A bath would be needed, and their clothes were far too sticky and sweat-slicked to wear for the remainder of the day. Of course, neither cared.

After a minute of basking in the afterglow and silken silence that encased them like a cocoon, Constance was the first to speak up.

“I’m dizzy,” she whispered, swaying against his chest with a light laugh. “W-Wow.”

“My, are you alright?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice as he held her. “Connie? Hey…Connie?”

“Fine,” she said quickly, holding up a reassuring hand. “Very, very fine. Just…wow.”

He heaved a sigh of relief, then reached over to push some hair back from her face.

“Well, did the scenario live up to your expectations?” Scrooge asked, eyeing her with a gaze that brimmed with adoration It was the only way he ever looked at her, but still, something about the way he gazed upon her in that moment sent an electrical current through her heart.

“Oh, very much so,” she said, snuggling into him as if he was the most comfortable bed in the world. “Exceeded them, in fact. I may never enjoy romance novels again!”

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her taffy-colored head. “Well, I’m sure we can think of some…solutions.”

She giggled again, pressing her face to his bare chest, fingers toying idly with his chest hair. He blinked down at her, hands holding her as tightly as possible.

“May I say something silly?” she asked as she caught her breath.

“You haven’t met your silliness quota yet?” he asked cheekily. “Impressive.”

She smiled at his reciprocation, appreciating it. “You make my heart beat so fast that it makes my ribs feel soft. My entire chest feels watery when we’re close, and it’s…bizarre. Wonderfully Bizarre. I’m still getting used to it.”

All the breath left Ebenezer’s lungs in a low, awestruck sigh. “Connie…”

“I…love you very much, Ebenezer,” she said, eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiled. “More than anyone.”

She reached down just enough to grab his hand, then laced their fingers. “I…will never look upon my years with Orin happily. However, escaping him brought me here, to you. So, when I think of it like that, it makes everything feel a little better.”

He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare down into those blue eyes of hers, as clear and bright blue as a countryside lake.

“I…don’t know what to say,” he said, his voice as fragile as a bird’s wing. “Your words humble me. I am…undeserving of them, and of you.”

She shook her head.

“I’m afraid I must disagree.”

She reached up and cupped his strong chin, fingers ruffling his star-colored sideburns. Then, she dropped a kiss on the indent of his sharply caved cheekbone. Her lips were so raw from kissing that she didn’t leave so much as a smudge of her usual red lipstick behind.

“Thank you for making me feel so cherished and loved,” she whispered. “I promise to always try to bring the same joy to your life that you have brought to mine.”

Gods, he felt close to crying. Blinking back tears of happiness as best he could, he drew her close and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

“My love,” he whispered, cradling her close over his heart, right where she belonged. “You already have.”

[momolady]

Monster Halloween Blind Dates: Part One

Hi - I'd love a monster blind date! I'm 40/f, dyed bright red hair and, er, curvy... i love history, sewing, food and drink, delicious living, singing, languages...i like all non-humanoid monsters. <3 thank you!

There’s a small dirt road off the beaten path. The traffic and closed roads for Halloween trick or treating has made getting a home a, excuse the pun, nightmare.  You tried the mapped out detour, but even that felt like it was trying to lead you further and further from home. The small dirt path looks as though it cuts through directly towards your place. And as cute as the trick or treaters are, you’re exhausted and just want to get home to enjoy your own goodies.

You drive onto the path, wondering how you had never seen this little road before. The trees are closing in, the path is getting narrower. You worry this was a walking path and not made for driving.  The trees open up again, widening to the sky and a massive cornfield. 

Hitting the brakes, dust clouds up around you, blinding your field of vision for a moment. A cornfield? Since when was there a cornfield? You think you might need to turn back, as you have no intention of getting out to inspect. But as the dust dies down, you see something watching you from the corn. Bright golden eyes gleam like flickering candles from the stalks. You hold your breath, having seen too many horror movies taking place in cornfields. The eyes approach, followed by a long, willowy body. Is it a snake? You think to yourself. No. It’s dragon!

The more the dragon slithers out, you see its scales match the color of the dry stalks, it has silken tufts of hair resembling corn silk. The dragon appears, holding a giant wooden bowl in their hands. 

“I have not had trick or treaters in years! I am so excited!” The dragons peaks with a deep but quiet voice. “I have full sized candy bars.” He shows you the bowl, filled to the brim with all sorts of candy. His smile is too sweet, and against instinct you step out, taking your favorite from the bowl.

His name is Lucid, and he’s been so lonely. You end up talking to him, learning he had been in your town for hundreds of years, having been raised there to protect the crops, but the humans who raised him were chased away, leaving him alone.

You promise Lucid to visit again, and his smile is radiant. 

Hi! I'm donating to help out and for the Monster Blind Date. I'm a cis, plus-sized woman, 5'4", aged 27, who's a natural ginger. I have long hair with an undercut. I'm an introvert who loves video games, drawing, and am obsessed with chocolate! I am also bi, but prefer women. @lilidafox

Every halloween, the local chocolatier opens her doors to the children of the neighborhood. But only for a short while. Herbusiness is decorated to the nines, and is always the place to go during Halloween. People rush there to be sure they get through the doors before they close. Those who enter are privy to a huge selection of chocolates, her ‘planner’ for the following year as she calls it. The chocolatier is private, and not many people have had the pleasure of meeting her. But her chocolates are some of the best in the world.

That halloween you were lucky enough to be one of the participants. The crowd wasn’t your scene, but for this you were willing to risk it. Staff members dressed in halloween flair led you to a dining hall where you were served courses of fine chocolate, as well as a notebook to write your thoughts on each morsel. 

A small break in the meal saw hot chocolate, cider, and drinks for the adults. You broke from the crowd, wanting a moment to have a fresh breath of air. The hallway you found was empty and quiet, barely lit to keep people away. The whole place smelled like chocolate, but this hallway had a faint scent to it that was no sweet or confection.

Then, a door opened towards the end of the hallway and light spilled out from inside. “Come join me for a drink,” someone beckoned. Suddenly a staff member appeared right next to you, handing you two new drinks to take. It was the chocolatier himself who was inviting you!

You found the open door was the kitchen, and it was pristine and glowing in how pure it was. To the far back, there was a small table and chairs, with someone sitting in one. She wore a large pumpkin over her head and had on long black gloves.

She stood as you approached, and the pumpkin’s face moved in response. She greeted you, introducing herself as Jacqueline. She pulled out your seat and took one of the glasses you were carrying. You noticed her hands had extra fingers.

Jacqueline sat down with you, and inside her pumpkin there was a light glowing. It was strange, Jacqueline seemed strange, but then she started asking you how you enjoyed her chocolates. You were awkward at first, but happily went into what you liked and didnt. Jacqueline nodded. Taking in everything you were giving her. She went into detail on some of her confections, telling you how she did it, as well as ideas on how she could improve. 

The two of you ended up talking for a long time, longer than you expected. The staff came and went, and Jacqueline eventually realized the time. She walked you to the front door, and you asked if you could see her without his costume.

“Costume? Oh no. I’m not wearing any costume,” she laughed.

You stomach dropped for a moment, and then you had to smile. 

“Our secret?” Jacqueline whispered.

You nodded to him, promising not to whisper a word of it as long as he invited you back. Jacqueline happily agreed, promising a proper date which she could cook for.

Hello! My Tumblr tag is @world-of-shadows-and-music. Could I have a blind date in the forest? I am 5'1 female, have short red hair and hazel eyes. I enjoy drawing animals and plants while exploring the natural parks near where I live. Hiking and exploring are my favorite things!

The hiking trail was decorated and glowing with all sorts of lights. Booths were set up at the base with snacks, candy, and drinks. The further up the path was set as a sort of haunted walking tour for the kids. You could already hear screams, the sound effects of a chainsaw and a wolf howling. You were walking around, taking mental pictures for ideas you could draw later. 

You were walking around, enjoying yourself when you noticed something moving from the corner of your eyes. Under a booth there was something wiggling, it looked like a tree root. But it moved, pulling away carrying a candy bar in its clutches. It slithered back into the woods, going down the advanced trail.

For some weird reason, you decided to follow it. It went slowly, so you could keep up pace. The lights hanging around also illuminated the path so you could follow it. Eventually, the root with the candy bar went up a tree. You came to the base of the tree and looked around it. You then looked up, seeing something perched amongst the branches. Glowing green eyes spotted you and the figure seemed to melt into the tree.

The shape reappeared on the other side of the trunk, the roots rose up front he ground, coiling about you and pulling you closer. The shape common from the tree reached out, long fingers too hold of your shoulders, dragging you close to the rabbit-like face carved from wood. The green eyes glowed brighter, and you could see the candy bar wrapper sticking out from the moss on their chest.

You offered out a candy bag a sweet kid had given you when you arrived on the haunted trail. The creature took the candy, and happily began to munch.

You smiled and reminded them you were coming.

The dryad gave you a look, kissing you before going back to their treats. You smiled, sitting down amongst the roots which formed a seat for you. The dryad put their arms around you, snuggling up close and thanking you for the candy.

Heard Halloween and came running. 6' blond masc ex-forester who forgets not to swear so much, open to anyone who can defeat me in combat or make me laugh too much to keep fighting.

There was a small valley where the halloween rumble was every year. You were prepared for it, most of Hearthway Hollow was actually. Even if you weren’t a werewolf yourself, you still liked to participate every year. Magda was there as well, and you were eyeing her from across the field. In her shifted form, you could see where she was intimidating, but you were eager to take her on. The two of you were rivals at the mill, competing often in menial things.

Magda tagged you for a fight, and the whole crowd held their breath as werewolf on human fights were uncommon during the Halloween rumble. Of course there was a struggle, Magda looked strong, but was far stronger than that. She gave you a run for your money, but you eventually found how to hold your own.

It was a stalemate for a while, but Magda eventually pinned you. She got a grin on her face and she licked her teeth.

“That decides it,” she said. “You’re making dinner.”

Hoping for a blind date! I’m 5 ft 6, long blonde hair, blue eyes, chubby. For the Halloween theme: my costumes this year are Mabel from Gravity Falls and Data from Star Trek, and I’m giving out Rice Krispie treats to the kids! I love a PSL or chai latte, and pumpkin bread!

It was a shockingly cold halloween. Children were running around in their costumes with their coats over top, giving a certain theme to the atmosphere without really being a theme. Luckily, your outfit already included a really heavy sweater, so you were comfortable as you sat on your stoop.

Your neighbor Albert’s yard was decorated so the kids could wander around, and he would throw candy at them he attached to rubber bats to scare them. Their screams and giggles made you smile.

There was a lull in kids, as you were sure the pavilion was opening with their special event. You were sitting peacefully, scrolling through an app when something landed in your lap. The little bat with a candy bar attached looked up at you with a warped open mouth. You looked to Albert who waved at you.

The two of you met at the end of our lawns, he looked great in his Dracula costume, but you had to ask him if it wasn’t a little on the nose.

He took off the black wig for a moment, scratching behind his pointed ear, which let his long white hair fall. He laughed, saying he thought it was funny. You smirked back, asking him how he was enjoying the evening.

“It's my favorite night of the year. It reminds me of bygone times.” Albert said with a wistful voice. He looked out at the sleepy children being carried home by their parents. Teens holding their younger siblings' hands. “It's when I feel young again.”

You rub your hands together from the cold, and he takes notice. “Would you like something warm to drink?” He asked. “I also have some baked goods I made in case I ran out of candy bats.”

“You bake?” You asked in surprise.

“I enjoy the process.” Albert smiled. “Just because I’m a vampire doesn’t mean I still don’t enjoy the comforts of humanity.”

Inside his house was a bit of a mess, halloween decor front he yard was stacked about, as well as his usual outdoor decor. His kitchen was warm and smelled like every fall scent wrapped up into one.

He poured you a cup of chai, then sliced off some gooey pumpkin brownies for you. As your hands warmed back up, you noticed Albert watching you with a certain glint to his ruby eyes.

“Whats your favorite halloween treat?” You asked.

“Blood, with a touch of cinnamon,” he murmured.

You glanced towards the window and shyly back at him. “Being bite by a vampire on halloween, it wouldn’t be a cliche would it?”

[letmewanderinyourgarden2022]

The night sky, visible through the small window, was other-worldly and spectacular for the red-eye flight from Atlanta to London. The long hours were thankfully uneventful which I took as a very good omen.  I managed a first-class booking – sleeping pod and all - so I was as comfortable as I could possibly be.  Drifting off, images of the day to follow flickered through my slumber-ready thoughts – the flat, the paperwork, and of course, Jimmy – where, when and how will we meet? 

So much is still in the dark.

Sighing, I surrendered to Morpheus.  He hadn’t been my friend of late, but on the flight to the unimaginable rendezvous, he returned to me.  When I awoke from the brief but deep sleep, a succession of vivid images from my dreaming flashed in my head, and I bolted upright from the reclined seat.

Damn! I remember!

Amazed, I slipped back, eyes closed, replaying the visions.   

I was walking to the flat in Kensington. Ahead, a flock of birds milled about.   Pigeons!  Of course.  As I got closer, they took flight en masse.  Watching them gracefully arc above me, I corrected myself.  “No, they’re doves.”  The only words I spoke.  I looked down to find the sidewalk replaced by the front entrance of the flat.  I cautiously opened the black varnished door, finding a grand, hall-like room crisscrossed with large brown timbers imbedded in sand-colored walls – unmistakably medieval.  Baffled, I stepped outside to re-examine the exterior.  Right, that’s definitely Georgian.   Reentering the flat, the same timber and plaster interior surrounded me.  I giggled at the oddity.  Following distant voices, I was drawn to a large, dusky room containing a round table that looked as if it were sliced from the trunk of a massive tree.  In the dimness, multi-colored squares of light dotted the luster of its highly polished surface.   I surveyed the room to identify the source of the mesmerizing patterns.  A man leaned cross-armed against the wall in a far corner gazing outward through stained-glass windows that rose from floor to ceiling – the source of the kaleidoscope.  The hazy sunlight created a golden sheen on a sliver of his dark attire, the rest in shadow. There were others - two men seated at the table in deep discussion. I couldn’t see any of their faces or hear the conversation – no matter how hard I tried. Maybe they didn’t have faces – the absurd thought seemed entirely reasonable. The faceless man from the opening scenes of The Song Remains The Same sprang into my mind.  It struck me as incredibly funny.   While I laughed, the room and the men disappeared, replaced by a field of tall grass in early evening.  The soft shoots caressed my arms and legs as I lay in the expanse. Clouds, bottoms tinged with orange and purple from the reflection of the setting sun, traveled across the fading sky as it slowly transformed into a night with a sparkling canopy of stars.  From the grasses in the distance, shimmering green lights twinkled then rose, as one – like an aurora borealis – to hang low at the horizon.   I watched in amazement.  I sensed someone there with me.  I didn’t see her or him but could feel their wonder as well, whoever it was. 

Every detail was repeated just as I had dreamed. 

Damn, that was trippy. . . I think I remember the whole thing!  Well. . .maybe a breakthrough?

I savored the feeling.  My introspection was interrupted by the steward’s arrival to undo the sleeping pod.  Oblivious to the movement next to me, I stood absorbed in the realness of the dream – the sounds, the scents, the visions – so crystal clear.  Reseated, I paused another moment relishing the details then took out my laptop to record the impressions.  Lawyer-mode returned and I thought it best to also review the notes I had made about itinerary and such:  nine tomorrow morning – meeting with Jimmy’s representative at his manager’s office to sign the NDA and other paperwork, as well as to finalize the logistics of the much-anticipated meeting; contacts for Perry and the flat’s landlord; possible day trips; the pilgrimage; and where to meet the driver at the airport.

Meeting Jimmy! Fuck, this is actually happening. . .not yet, my girl.  Don’t jinx it!

Upset at myself for doubting, I slapped the laptop closed and shoved it back under the seat.  I jerked open the book brought along for the flight, needing a diversion from negative thoughts.   The first volume of the Outlander series was suggested to me by a friend who noted the series of books had a fascinating plot line.  The story captivated me, and seemingly only minutes later, the pilot announced the approach to the airport. 

Wow.  That was a quick two hours!  So well written.  I may need to pick up the next book while I’m here.

I took stock of my belongings, sliding the book into my laptop bag, and prepared to land.  On the jetway, I checked my watch.   It was 9:30 a.m. local time.  I was to meet, I assumed, Jimmy’s driver at noon in the baggage area. 

Customs must be a bitch!

At 12:30, I finally arrived to collect my bags, having survived the customs nightmare.  As I searched the crowd around the baggage claim, I spied a tall guy with shaggy blond hair holding a “Jane M” sign. 

Okay, that’s him.  Is that? . . .Oh my god, I think it is.”

As I approached him, I beamed with glee. “Well, if it isn’t ‘The Scanner’!  Perry!” I held out my hand.  “So happy to meet you.  I recognized you from the photo.”

“Ha, yeah.  Great to meet you too,” he said, heartily shaking my hand.

“I was expecting a driver or something.  It’s very nice of you to pick me up in person.”

“I am that, on occasion, but today, we have a driver.”  As he spoke, he guided me toward the carousel that was delivering the long-awaited luggage at a snail’s pace to the gaggle of passengers. “The car is just outside so let’s get your bags and we’ll be on our way to your flat.  We can have a chat en route.”

The journey from Heathrow to South Kensington went by quickly and we were soon in front of my temporary residence.

I stepped out of the car, admiring the row of stately, terraced residences, sparkling white in the afternoon sun.  “Very, very cool.  Much better in person.”

Perry joined me on the sidewalk.  “This is a fantastic neighborhood – great architecture.” He glanced back to the driver wrestling the luggage from the boot to the curb.  “We need the key.”

“Right, need to get it from the owner.  I’ll be just a second.”

I bounded up the stairs and rang the bell.  A young blonde woman opened the door.

I tried to regain my breath. “Uh. . .Hi. . . Good day.  I’m Jane Mott – renting the downstairs.”

“Oh, yes.  Good to meet you, Jane.  Emily Putnam.  My husband, Rob, and I own the place.  Please, come in.”

“Emily. . .is it possible. . .umm. . .I have some guys waiting to bring in my bags.  Could I get the key and I’ll come back once they’re done?”

“Of course.”  She reached to a table behind the door.  “Here it is and the door is just there.” She nodded to the wrought-iron railing of the stairway to the flat below.  “Once you’re settled, come up the stairs from the back patio.  I’ll be in the kitchen – right at the top of the stairs.  We’ll have tea and go over the particulars.”

“Great.  Thanks, Emily.  So nice to meet you.  See you in a bit.”

The men trundled my unwieldy bags across the black and white checkerboard tiles of the front terrace and down the stairs to the flat. Once inside, I was pleasantly surprised.

Thank the gods – no timbers.

“Wow.  This is very modern.  The photos really didn’t do justice.”

“This will be quite comfortable, I’m sure.  I hope you enjoy your time here.”

“How could I not, Perry?” I chuckled. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Mr. Page’s driver will collect you promptly at half eight for the drive to the office.  Is that still a good time for you or should I make it later – you know, jet lag and such?”

“No, that will be fine.”

“Jane, a pleasure. I’ll be on my way then.”  He nodded his goodbye.

“Thanks again for everything.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

I dragged my two huge suitcases and assorted other bags down the hall to the spacious master bedroom.  Unpacking, I took special care with hanging the vintage items in the walk-in closet.  The room was graced with a king-size bed and a huge bathroom.  Particularly interesting was the shower sporting a water jet system in the walls.

Just what I need.  Definitely on the agenda for this evening.

I wandered through the rooms discovering other features.  The state-of-the-art kitchen was fully stocked with items I requested to be delivered, right down to the liquor.  The living room was complete with a flat screen TV, internet connections, and what looked to be a wi-fi set up.  It opened onto a cozy, walled patio with a fire pit.

This is incredibly upscale.  I’m going to absolutely love it here.

Remembering my check-in with Emily, I climbed the patio stairs to spend the hour sipping delicious creamy tea, finalizing the arrangements, and learning about the area.  I almost choked, mid-swallow, when Emily mentioned Jimmy Page lived in the neighborhood, noting that she and Rob were avid Zep fans.

“We see him frequently when he’s in town, you know – out and about in the shops”

Regaining my composure, I leaned in.   “Really?  So, he’s just like a normal guy?”

“Yes, he seems so, but then, there are often fans hanging about, so maybe no.  He’s generally very gracious.”

“Maybe I’ll have a sighting while I’m here.” I inwardly smirked, nonchalantly lifting the cup to my lips. 

Returning to the flat, I set up my laptop in the living room, connecting the various wires and plugs.  I switched on my YouTube playlist, thrilled to hear Zep from all corners of the room. 

Perfect!  Surround sound! Gotta get out of these clothes and this f’ing bra.  Maybe time for that shower.

Making my way back to the bedroom, the strains of The Rover floated through unseen speakers in the walls of each room I entered.  Debating a long luxurious bath or the shower with the awesome jets, the shower won out.  The effect of the water massage combined with the melodies of Physical Graffiti was heavenly.  All the travel tension had melted away.  That, along with the inevitable jet lag, made it apparent that it would be an early night.  

I slipped into a comfortable long dress, my favorite for lounging, and searched the kitchen for a glass, ice, and the bottle of Jack.  Dancing my way to the bedroom, I took a swig, depositing the tumbler on the nightstand.  As I sprawled across the bed, the events of the past week – the trip preparation, the brief misgivings about what I had gotten into, and the excitement at the possibility of meeting Jimmy were front of mind.  Then, I remembered my first interaction with Perry. 

 Oh my god, that call in January!  I’m so happy he has a sense of humor.

The aroma of cherry and oak permeated the air from the flames gently licking the logs in the living room fireplace. I curled up on the sofa with a stack of contracts on my lap.  The firm had taken on several new band clients at the end of the year, a few of them exceptionally talented.  As a result, I anticipated spending the entire weekend reviewing tour agreements and management services contracts to ensure everything was fair and equitable.  With the Saturday morning ticking into afternoon, I took a break to refresh my coffee and settled back onto the sofa.  Amid a particularly confusing section, my cell phone rang.  Focused on my reading, I answered without looking at the screen, putting the caller on speaker.

“Hello.”

“Uh. . .yes, hello. . .Is this Jane Mott?”  The caller was unmistakably British.

“Perhaps. . . And this is?

“My name is Perry Hudson calling on behalf of Jimmy Page.”

“Right. . . okay.  Look-”

The voice interrupted, “Ms. Mott, I know this may be unexpected since a rather extended time has passed since you posted the correspondence to Mr. Page, but. . .”

This is probably some asshole who found “the correspondence” in a trash bin. . .For fuck’s sake, it’s been forever.

“LOOK!  I don’t know who you are, how you got my number, or what ‘correspondence' you're referring to” I barked at the phone, “but I’m very busy and in no mood to be pranked, so. . . fuck off!”

His words squawked rapidly from the phone’s tiny speaker.  “No, no, Ms. Mott, don’t hang up!  My name is Perry Hudson.  I am truly calling you from London regarding the letter you sent to Mr. Page. . I’M THE SCANNER!! PLEASE, don’t hang up.”

“Wait. . . what?”

“I got your package at the Flames of Albion offices and passed it on to Mr. Page, personally.”

“You did? Really?”  I said weakly as my stomach flipped-flopped. At that moment, I noticed the number on the screen proved an international call.  A million scenarios raced through my head – he could be anyone. . .some schmuck in a mailroom somewhere having a go at me.  “Sorry, Mr. Hudson, is it?  I’m not convinced.”

“Well, that’s totally understandable, Ms. Mott.  Let me just say, this is. . . I must admit. . .this is a first for me, as well.”

I heard something like truth in his voice but was still skeptical. “Do tell, please.”

“Mr. Page has had an impossibly hectic schedule, which I’m sure you can understand.  When he had the time to give your letter proper attention, the months had slipped away.”

Giving in to my penchant for pacing when angry or unsure of myself – and I was a bit of both - I sprang from the couch, scattering the papers from my lap across the floor.  “Fuck,” I muttered.

“Eh. . .what? . . .Please forgive me if this is not a good time to speak.”

“No, no, it’s okay, Mr. Hudson.  Perhaps we should start over?” I took the phone off speaker, grabbed the cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table, and barged out the front door, oblivious to the freezing air.  I crisscrossed the porch as I smoked. “What exactly do you want and how do I know you are who you say you are?”

“Starting over. . .yes. . .thank you, but I’m not sure how I can prove who I am over the phone. . .At any rate, Mr. Page found the entirety of your letter. . .fascinating. . .is the word he used.  He’s tasked me with arranging a meeting, possibly in the fall, after the proper vetting. . . .since your letter implied a trip to London was in your future plans. He would be delighted to meet you if that works out.”

I sunk onto the swing, pulling another cigarette from the pack.  “Umm. . .wow. . .yeah, that’s possible.”  Thoughts racing, I grabbed one.  “Please forgive my apprehension, but I need to know that you are genuine before we go any further.  I do need some sort of proof.”

“What can I do to provide that to your satisfaction?”

After a deep breath, I forged ahead.  “I would need to see evidence, tangible evidence, that you even know Jimmy, for one."  Being a total smart-ass, I continued in my best drama-class high British accent, “I’m sure you’re quite aware, Mr. Hudson, that anyone can pretend they are something they are not.”

“Not bad, Ms. Mott,” he snickered.

“Well, you get my point, right?” Emboldened, since I was still unsure of the veracity of the call, I pushed further to test.  “I think a call with Jimmy to confirm would work. . .maybe a video call with you both would suffice.  Is that doable?”

There was silence.

I continued. “I mean, I’ve already offered a non-disclosure, so we can start that right now, verbally, if that makes it easier.”

“I don’t think Mr. Page would agree to a call of that sort,” he said hesitantly.

“Alright, I can understand that. Okay, then. . . .uh. . .how about a photo of both of you together, with a date and time stamp - as a compromise? If Mr. Page is amenable, after you take the photo, please send it to me right away.  I’ll give you the email address for my Blackberry; it's very secure.  You can send the image there."

“I think. . .that. . .may be. . .possible.  Obviously, I need to consult with Mr. Page.”

I rattled off the address and after assuring me I’d hear from him in the next few days, we ended the call.

I remained on the swing in the freezing air, puffing on my fourth cigarette, comfortably numb yet shivering. I returned inside and warmed myself by the fire, staring into the flames. 

What the hell just happened? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@firethatgrewsolow @foreverandadaydarling @laluxea @lzep @sassybouquetrunaway-universe @jimmysdragonsuit13 @jenyj89

[bekoobove]

Fazbear Fears #1: In His Head

...Cocky high schooler Dylan thinks he’s invincible, until a new perspective changes his mind...

“Let’s do this.” Dylan grinned.

He stepped onto the dusty stage and pulled back the worn curtains to see the entrance to backstage.

“Dylan...you sure about this?”

He turned back to see Rick, looking nervous.

Dylan stared for a moment, then laughed. “Wait, do you actually believe those dumb old stories?”

Of course, with the restaurant’s storied history, those legends could have been anything. A shadowy murderer in a bunny costume, maybe, or those weird indie games (Dylan had played one once. Pretty good, but a ridiculous plot- haunted robots? Come on.) But Dylan knew exactly what Rick was so anxious about.

“Dude, teens have been hanging out at Fredbear’s ever since it was abandoned- what, about thirty years ago? Except for that one time, no one’s so much as stubbed a toe here!”

Exasperated, Rick groaned. “And that one time was someone who…”

Dylan smirked. “Went backstage, I know. Died a gruesome death mere hours later, bla bla bla. What, you think the spooky ghosts got him?”

“You remember my mom’s a police officer and saw it, right? That guy was in his bathroom, no picked lock or broken windows, and-” He paused. “My mom’s been to dozens of crime scenes, and she said she’s never seen anything remotely like it before. Like someone had dropped a barrelful of swords on his head.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes, growing annoyed. “Coincidences happen, Rick. Our parents have turned one dumb thing into their justification for keeping us out of this dopel place forever. Now, are you gonna keep watch for me or what?”

Rick sighed. “Fine. Your funeral.”

“I’m sure.” Dylan chuckled.

He walked off into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, it was creepy. Dylan would give it that.

A naked endoskeleton sat on a bench against a wall, surrounded by small parts and tools, its blank eyes reflecting the beam of his flashlight. Old colored lights covered the floor, lenses shattered. A greasy pizza box sat on a small table with some kind of fungus growing out what was left of a slice.

So, yes, scary.

But also, it was the coolest place ever.

Dylan ran through the dusty place. He found a box full of cardboard character cutouts, and broke them in two one by one.

“Oh no, pwease!” he cried mockingly as he snapped the last one on his knee. “Don’t hurt me, mean ghosts!”

He went to the kitchen and found some old cans of soda. Flicking the tab open on one, he took a huge sip. Sitting nearby was a small bobblehead of a golden bear holding a cupcake. “Oh, am I drinking your soda? So sorry.”

He poured the rest on the bobblehead. The brown bubbles fizzed against the pale yellow plastic.

The golden bear animatronic… say, was he or that bunny still here?

Dylan exited the kitchen to see a sign over a plain door reading Animatronic Repairs.

The quiet halls echoed with the sounds of his steps as he ran to check it out. He threw the door open to see-

Huh.

A mostly empty room. No tools, no parts, no endoskeletons, and no shiny golden animatronics.

Only a table near the back of the room.

“Eh, they were probably sent to the junkyard or something.” Dylan turned to leave-but then he noticed something on the table.

He focused his light on it.

Fredbear stared right back at him.

Dylan jumped back, startled. Shaking, he raised his flashlight again to get another look

It wasn’t the whole animatronic or suit.

Just the head, empty eyes staring right at him.

Even before he had entirely calmed from the sight, one thought started echoing through his head.

Souvenir.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If the rest was scrapped, why leave the head?” Rick asked as they walked home, streetlights doing little to cut through the dark night.

Dylan adjusted the head in his arms. “Maybe someone rescued it ‘cause they thought it’d be cool to have. Don’t know why they wouldn’t take it home.” He snickered. “Unless they live in the diner.”

Rick frowned. “But is it an animatronic?”

“No, some kind of suit, I think.” He stuck his hand in through the head hole and out the eye. “No robot parts- or ghosts. I know you were worried about that.”

“Shut up.” Rick muttered. “I would like to get a closer look, though.”

“That’s fine, but it’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow.” Dylan tapped his watch. “I have to be home in ten minutes or my parents will flip.”

“Alright.” Rick said. “I’ll be there late morning.”

“See you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan placed the head on his shelf. He sighed, relieved his parents had bought his story about finding it at a garage sale.

Normally he’d stay up a little later, but he was pretty exhausted. He hit the lights and crashed into bed.

Not thirty seconds had passed when he noticed something. He pushed himself up to see two pinpricks of white light- right where the head was positioned.

Heart racing, he jumped out of bed to the switch, quickly flicking the lights back on.

Fredbear’s eyes were dark and vacant again.

Dylan groaned. Rick’s ghost stories had gotten to him. Though… they had looked real…

Maybe there were old lights or something. Seemed unlikely, but worth a try.

He grabbed the head, and put it on to get a better look at the inside.

He noticed a few things that were off.

For one, no lights.

Second, there were animatronic parts in the head, strange metallic pieces with little spikes on the end. Dylan was confused, but guessed they were probably how the head attached to an endoskeleton.

Maybe.

A little harder to explain was the fact he was no longer in his house.

Through the empty eye holes Dylan could see a dark hallway, empty save for a door at the end on the right wall.

Panicked, he threw up the mask to try to get a better look.

He only saw his own room.

“Wha-what just-”

Nervously, he lowered the mask once more.

He had returned to the hall.

Shaking, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. It was too dark to see much, but he could tell he was looking around a corner.

Suddenly, a beam of light cut through the darkness. It got right in Dylan’s eyes, and he cringed from the brightness. As he did, he felt something strange- his body moving, seemingly on its own, slinking into the darkness around the corner.

His vision went black for a moment, and his perspective shifted. Suddenly he was standing in an identical hallway, except the door was on the left wall, and he was right next to it.

Over the sound of his heart racing, Dylan could hear heavy breathing that wasn’t his own. The door opened, and he could make out a figure standing in the entrance. The figure stood there for a moment, tensed, then slammed the door.

Again his perspective shifted. He sat on a bed, staring straight forward. To either side he saw doors- the ones he had just been outside of. And in front of him, again, was the figure.

Dylan tried to shout, to yell to the person to run, but no need. They turned around and flashed their light, and Dylan moved once more.

He wasn’t sure where he was now. There was a sliver of light in front of him, like a barely opened door.

Finally taking a moment to calm down, to try to understand what was happening. He looked down- to see this wasn’t his body.

It was an enormous, ragged form. His arms were huge, with sharp claws at the ends of his fingers. His torso was covered in holes, through which there was some kind of robotic skeleton visible. One horizontal slit at belly button level covered the width of his stomach, filled with bloodied teeth like a weird mouth. His entire body was covered in faux, matted golden fur.

Before Dylan could even begin to grapple with what was going on, he watched as the enormous paws pried the doors open. The body he couldn’t control stomped out of what he could now see was the closet.

The figure, who had been checking the left door, turned, and Dylan finally got a good look.

He was tall, and looked to be about Dylan’s age. He had tanned skin, a muscular build, and dark brown hair. He also looked like he hadn’t slept in days- maybe weeks. And he was crying.

When he saw Dylan’s monstrous form he backed against the door, looking like he was- well, Dylan couldn’t really tell. Scared certainly, but also heartbroken, or ashamed?

Over the creaking of his body’s animatronic parts Dylan could hear the boy whisper “I’m sorry- I didn’t- didn’t want this…”

The monster ignored him. It took one more step, raised his arm to slash the boy across the chest, and-

An alarm beeped.

And Dylan’s view shifted one last time.

He was no longer in a bedroom.

He was in Fredbear’s- but not the dilapidated one he had visited earlier that night.

It was bright, and the tables were covered in trays of pizza and plates of cupcakes. Balloons hung from every wall. Music was playing.

And it was coming from Fredbear.

Fredbear, in all of his golden glory, singing some eighties tunes.

His vision was blurred with tears- he didn’t want to get any closer to Fredbear

But he was.

The boy. He was wearing a mask, but the boy from the bedroom was carrying him towards the robot as he laughed. A couple of other teens were helping, each wearing a mask as well.

They were at the base of the stage.

The boy said something Dylan couldn’t make out.

He was thrust upward, up into the mouth of the machine.

Dylan had had enough. He was about to to move to take the head off when he noticed-

Those metal things were shifting, spinning, unwinding, seemingly becoming more loose with every move he had made.

He stood absolutely still.

They stopped.

He felt relieved.

From the head’s eyeholes, a tear fell.

It hit one of the parts.

Something moved.

Fredbear bit down.

The world went red.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Mrs Andrews!” Rick said as he walked into the house.

“Oh, hey, Rick!” Dylan’s mom said. “Dylan mentioned you’d be coming over this morning. He’s in his room.” She laughed. “Still sleeping.”

Rick rushed upstairs. He came to Dylan’s bedroom and knocked. “Wake up dude, I wanna see the head!”

No answer.

“Well, I told him I was coming over.” Rick reasoned. He let himself in.

He quickly realized the head wasn't here. It was huge and still shiny through the stains and mildew, so if it was in the room he’d notice.

He looked at the floor.

Dylan laid there, pale, head covered in ruptures and surrounded by a pool of blood.

Rick screamed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It sat there, on the table deep within Fredbear’s. The head, empty once more and clean save for dust, stared at the entrance, ready to tell its story again.

[demy85]

Chapter 3 - The exhilaration of coming out (and it’s downsides)

For this year's spring gala, which his parents had been hosting for at least a decade now, his mother had once again spared neither expense nor effort.

They had booked the entire downstairs function area of Essex House and Alec was left in awe when he first walked into the main hall.

He found himself in an opulent, classic ballroom with several pivotal elements and was at a loss as to where to look first. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center, casting a warm and luxurious light into the room. The long sides were lined with numerous high, arched windows and doors with a white decorative frame and golden accents, through which natural light fell into the room and the impression of space was reinforced.

There was still a lot of commotion. Tables were set up, flower arrangements were pushed back and forth until his mother nodded in satisfaction.

But Alec hummed as he was able to discern his mother's vision, the perfect picture of an elegant celebration. It was a breathtaking sight.

Alec glanced around and could see the fine details of the preparations. He saw the waiters polishing the last of the glasses and arranging the place cards. It was a scene of distinguished bustle and perfection that promised to make the evening ahead something special.

𒐣

Having given in to Izzy's pleas, he had gone on a shopping trip with her a few days earlier. It had been nerve-wracking and it had once again reminded him why he loathed this leisure activity. 

As he was sitting in his old childhood bedroom, in his parents' house, staring at the suit his sister had picked out for him during that shopping trip, he wished the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

If it were up to him, he'd still be in New Haven prepping for his classes instead of sitting in New York attending yet another of his parents' snobbish benefit galas.

The only bright spot was that Jem had assured him in advance that he would be attending, too.

Jem had been one of the few attorneys at his parents' law firm who had taken him under his wing while he had been doing minor work at the firm as a teenager. From that time on, Jem was like a mentor to him, someone he could look up to and easily talk to about whatever he wanted. He was also the only person who knew about Alec's sexuality.

Alec breathed in deeply once more as he checked his watch. It was high time he got ready. He didn't have much time left before the limousine arrived that would take his sister and him to the gala.

𒐣

Alec was already standing outside the door as the limousine made its way up the driveway leading towards the house. He was getting more impatient by the second and was about to go back through the door to call for his sister when she suddenly appeared in the doorway and his breath came short.

Until that moment, he hadn't seen the dress Izzy had chosen for the evening. It was stunning and he was sure that Izzy would attract a lot of attention. Probably much to the disapproval of their mother.

It was a fancy evening gown with a plunging sweetheart neckline and white floral embroidery all over the top and skirt of the dress, contrasting beautifully with the black fabric.

"You look gorgeous, Izzy," Alec said, holding out a hand to help her into the limo.

She laughed as she took his hand and replied, "You don't look so bad yourself, brother."

During the drive to Essex House, the two sat quietly side by side, both lost in thought and anxious to see what the evening would bring.

Both knew that Maryse would almost certainly give them disapproving looks, but to save face would say nothing about the outfits they had chosen for the occasion.

There was no way either of them could have had an inkling of the turn this evening would take.

𒐣

Alec had given up counting the number of hands he had already shaken.

These events always followed the same pattern and he was so tired of playing the poster child. However, he and Izzy had complied, as they had learned by now when it was time to bend to their mother's will rather than fight it.

And so, with smiles on their faces, they stood beside their parents at the entrance to the hall and greeted each new arrival.

Alec had just turned towards the musicians, who had taken their place at the right end of the hall and had already started playing the first notes, when he suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath from his mother.

It wasn't long after that he felt Izzy's hand clasp his in a bone-crushing grip. And then he heard her say, so quietly that only he could hear, "Our mother is going to go berserk. Look who Jem has brought as his companions."

Alec had never turned his head as quickly as he did at that moment.

It was then that he saw him. Jem had just come striding down the small corridor that led from the foyer to the hall, with a woman on his right and a man on his left. From the way they were walking, laughing and holding hands, you would have had to be blind not to notice that the three of them were connected by something more than friendship.

Finally, Jem stood in front of the Lightwoods and greeted Maryse and Robert before turning to Izzy and Alec. Afterwards, he let his gaze wander over his companions and back to the Lightwoods.

"May I introduce my wife Tessa and my husband Will," Jem said in a cheerful tone.

Alec had never seen his mother as pale as she was at that moment.

𒐣

Robert became immediately aware of the fact that his wife found it more than uncomfortable to be around these people. Even though Jem was one of the best attorneys in their firm, Robert had no doubt that Maryse would do anything in her power to get rid of him after that evening.

He reached for her hand and held it tightly, trying to tell her without words that she had better not be making a scene.

He paid absolutely no attention to Jem at all or even towards his children. His focus remained solely on Maryse. The two were engrossed in a conversation in which no one else could participate, for they did not speak with words, only with their expressions and gestures.

They were snapped out of their trance-like state when they heard Jem mutter something to their son. The two of them shot each other a shocked look and then turned their gaze to their son.

It wasn't as if Alec hadn't already been a disappointment after he and his sister had told them they weren't both going to law school.

But to see him now standing next to this abomination and interacting with him drove the anger and disappointment Maryse experienced towards her son to unknown heights.

When Alec noticed the look on his parents' faces that almost seemed to pierce through him, he knew it was now or never. Because he was tired of it, he was so tired of hiding who he was.

Jem remained at his side, holding his hand in a firm grip as he whispered to him again, "I'm here. I've got your back, no matter what. Don't let your fears intimidate you. They don't exist to make you feel insecure. Fears are there to let you know that there is something worth fighting for."

In a brittle, devestated voice, Alec whispered, "I'm gay." 

His parents stared at him in disbelief and Alec couldn't hold on any longer and shouted at the top of his lungs, emphasizing every single word, "I.AM.GAY!"

𒐣

After his outburst, he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. It felt liberating, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The fact that Izzy had been standing at his side the whole time and was looking at him, beaming with joy, helped him to stay calm. And then, suddenly, he found himself in the arms of his brother Jace, who held him in a bone-crushing embrace.

Jace held him so tightly in his arms that Alec almost lost his breath, but he didn't try to squirm out of the embrace. And then, when his brother whispered to him, "I'm so proud of you, Alec," it almost seemed like his heart would burst with happiness and he wrapped his arms around Jace and hugged him close.

"Thank you. Really, you don't know how much your encouragement means to me," he whispered gently, hoping that his voice didn't show that he was trying with all his might to suppress his tears.

But one thing he realized at that moment was that it didn't really matter whether his parents accepted him or not. As long as the people who were really important to him stood by him.  Because he knew that he had nothing to fear as long as he had them by his side.

It did his soul good to see that not only Jem stood behind him, but also his siblings.

𒐣

Maryse was absolutely furious.

She gave her son a tight look and said in a firm voice, "Life is not about what you want to do, it's about what must be done. Stop this drivel and act like a real Lightwood. I don't even recognize you anymore."

Jace was about to stride up in front of Alec, determined to protect his brother, but Alec gestured for him to stay put. Then he took a deep breath and met his mother's eyes, "I'm the same person I've always been. Now everything is just out in the open. There's no going back and either you accept me and I mean all of me or it's time for me to be leaving."

By now, the small group had attracted the attention of many of the other guests present and it was easy to sense Maryse's discomfort.

She let her eyes wander over her children once more and the small group standing behind them. 

She was disgusted, but she knew she couldn't start a fight. Not there. And so she decided to leave them and went into the ballroom without exchanging another word with any of them. 

Robert looked at his children with an indistinct expression. Then he shook his head gently and put a hand on Alec's shoulder as he turned to him and said, "Give her time, I'm sure she'll come around."

He smiled once more and then went after his wife.

𒐣

Jem gave Alec an encouraging pat on the back when he said, "Alec, I'm very, very proud of you. And you know, no matter what is going to happen, I'll always have my door open for you."

After that, he turned to Will and Tessa, took them both by the hand and left the hotel.

Alec was glad that his siblings didn't pester him with questions, that they didn't demand to be told as to why he had confided in Jem but not in them.

And then he noticed someone grabbing him and dragging him along with them. Izzy giggled as Jace stated, "This calls for a celebration. Let's get out of here and have some decent food and drink somewhere."

Alec thought to himself that the evening could only have gone better if his parents had accepted him as well. But he had come to the conclusion that his parents, especially his mother, would never accept that he was gay a long time ago.

And even if his father hadn't shown any reluctance towards him, Alec knew for a fact that he would never go against his wife.

He tried to banish all thoughts of his parents and their opinions from his mind and instead simply enjoy the rest of the evening with his siblings.

He finally started to feel free and it was an indescribably amazing experience.

𒐣

A short time later, the three of them found themselves in Hunter's Moon, completely overdressed for the small bar, but they couldn't possibly have cared less. 

When they had all lived in New York, they had often come here. They had played pool or darts until they were kicked out by the owner, as they were not yet of legal age at the time. Nevertheless, they kept coming back because they enjoyed the atmosphere and the food was good and cheap, at least by New York standards.

It had become their little safe haven when things got unbearable at home. Which was increasingly the case the older the siblings got. Their home had not been a loving one for a very long time. Robert and Maryse were usually absorbed in their work and when they did find the time to engage in activities with their children, it usually resulted in arguments between the two of them.

But Alec didn't want to think about why they had set out in search of a place where they could spend some time. Because, as Jace had said, the evening needed to be celebrated.

With Jem's help, he had finally mustered up the courage to come out to his family. And even if it had gone exactly as he had feared, he still had the support and love of his siblings.

So they had every reason to celebrate and that's exactly what they did.

𒐣

They had long since stopped counting the shots, but at least Alec and Izzy had been able to convince Jace that they should stick to one drink and not go mixing wildly.

Thus they had settled on Tequila Silver Shots, which were served with a slice of lime and coarse sea salt at Hunter's Moon. It was a marvelous flavor experience, first you licked the salt off your hand, then you drank the shot and afterwards you bit into the lime.

They all loved the taste and went on to order round after round.

Izzy giggled every time they licked the salt off their hands and Jace grimaced each time they bit into the lime. However, they didn't stop ordering shots.

The two of them were ecstatic and could still hardly believe that Alec had finally come out of the closet, that he had in fact been able to reveal his sexuality. They were so incredibly proud of him.

Which, of course, they made clear with every shot they brought to their lips.

You could hear them cheering, "Here's to Alec!" or "Alec's great" or "Well done, bro"

They drank until the bartender announced the last round and then they were kicked out of the bar.

Alec couldn't remember ever being this drunk and he was sure the other two were no better.

And yet somehow they managed to get home, but how exactly they did it, none of them were able to recall exactly by the next morning.

𒐣

Alec was sitting at the breakfast table with his siblings, each of them had a steaming cup of coffee in front of them as no one really had an appetite when suddenly the door burst open and an angry, fuming Maryse strode into the kitchen.

Paying no attention to Jace or Izzy, she purposefully advanced on Alec and then hissed, "What the hell were you thinking? Not bad enough that Carstairs made a scene, no, you thought this was the perfect time to humiliate your parents. I don't even recognize you anymore."

Alec's head was throbbing, not enough that he had the worst hangover ever, no, to make matters worse his raging mother was now standing in front of him accusing him of things that were absolutely baseless, at least in his opinion.

Why was his mother so narrow-minded?

And then, as if the situation wasn't already bad enough, he heard her say through her gritted teeth, "Pack your bags and go. Get out, I don't want to see you in this house ever again."

Alec was shocked and he saw his utter shock being mirrored in his siblings' eyes. He stood up, towering over his mother with his tall stature and then said, as calmly as he was capable, "I'm the same person I've always been. Now everything is just out in the open."

After that, he took a step to the side and left the three of them behind him, walking past his father, who had remained standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching in silence. Not a word passed his lips as Alec walked past him, neither had Alec expected his father to say anything about all this.

He had climbed the first few steps when he heard the loud voices of Izzy and Jace shouting in confusion and a warm feeling spread through his chest.

"How dare you, that's your son!"

"If Alec isn't welcome here, then I'm leaving too!"

"You're giving up your own flesh and blood because you care more about how you're perceived by others! Because you're narrow-minded and can't see that your point of view is wrong."

Alec didn't linger a moment longer on the stairs, instead running as fast as he could to his room and slamming the door behind him. He was overwhelmed that Izzy and Jace had his back, but his mother's outright disapproval made something inside him crack.

𒐣

Alec had grabbed a suitcase and packed the few things he had left in his childhood bedroom. Right as he was in the middle of cleaning out his closet, the door to his room was cracked open.

“I honestly can't believe that our mother is such a homophobe. To the point that she's not even able to accept her own son for who he is,” Jace could be heard whispering.

Izzy put her hand on Jace's shoulder and shook her head as she whispered to him, “ We need to be there for Alec now. Make sure he knows we will always have his back.”

Alec, who had heard the words his siblings had exchanged before they'd fully entered his room, made no move at all to face them. The pain caused by his parents' reaction was simply too immense. He couldn't even say which one caused him more pain. His mother's open hostility towards him or his father, who had simply been standing idly on the sidelines.

But then Alec found himself in a warm embrace, wrapped in the arms of his two siblings, who whispered quietly to him how proud they were of him and that they would always support and stand by him, no matter what their parents might say.

Tears trickled down Alec's cheeks without him really realizing it as he heard the loving words of his siblings and in that moment he knew that he had the love and support of the people who were truly important.

[noahreids]

2020 Schitt’s Creek GIF Advent Calendar ↳ Day 14 | A parent-child moment

[academicgangster]

what are your favorite canon ice/mav moments? :)

Ah, but there are a lot of those, anon! :D Mav and Ice are great at bringing the tension even with the quickest of exchanges, so practically every moment makes it onto the list.

(I'm about to get on a plane without my laptop, so I'll say right now that I'm probably going to remake this post with gifs in a few days. You can still reblog in the meanwhile!)

From Mav and Ice's very "that is a dominant and that is a masochist" enemies-to-lovers vibe in 1986 to their former-enemies-now-only-lovers married for years vibe in 2022, it's all golden. They have a whole arc, and I'll show you what I mean:

ACT I. SEARING SEXUAL TENSION

Searing sexual tension at their first meeting at the club ("No, you mean notorious. I'll see you later." "You can count on it.")

The Snap, obviously, with Ice telling Mav to never leave his wingman (a decent case for Mav being a few years younger, scrappier, than Ice)

Searing sexual tension in the air. ("Just a walk in the park, Kazansky." The looks on their faces are competitive, but a lot more than that. They're respectful rivals, both the kind of people who are turned on by a challenge, and it shows.)

ACT II. HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO HANDLE THE WEIGHT OF THIS

Ice trying his best to reassure Mav after Goose's death, to reach out and offer him the tiniest bit of comfort when everyone else around him (including Viper, a straight-up parent figure) is refusing to handle grief. Ice doesn't do great at this - he's also young and also, clearly, doesn't know how - but he's clearly genuinely trying, and he notably does a lot better than Charlie in the very next scene.

Mav coming back to graduate, shaking Ice's hand to congratulate him, looking genuinely happy for him and supportive of him - there's zero grudge or competitiveness here, which I really think points to the important core tenet of Mav Being A Good Boy.

ACT III. WINGMAN OUT OF TEN

Mav refusing to leave Ice, and relentlessly pursuing and shooting down the MiG that's chasing Ice.

The Wingman Hug we all know and love. The one that spawned fic upon fic of their wedding vows (guilty, lol). The one that persists all the way into the angsty, angsty present day.

And then, speaking of the present day, there's ACT IV. FORMER ENEMIES, LONGTIME LOVERS

Sugar Daddy Guardian Angel: We hear that ~mysterious forces~ are responsible for keeping Mav up in the air, where he belongs. We then pretty much immediately learn that said mysterious force is Iceman. Mav is not surprised about this. In fact, it's apparently such common knowledge that literally no one in the narrative is surprised about this. Iceman kicks off the whole plot of TGM. Those kids came home safe because Ice fought for Mav to train them.

Pictures Hanging In The Hallway (And The Fragment Of A Song): Who put those pictures in the hall at TOPGUN? Mav hasn't been back there in decades. Cyclone sure as hell isn't going to come up with that shit. I bet it was Ice who did it - and Mav's little smile at Ice's picture is the fucking cutest thing I've ever seen.

Everyone Kind Of Acknowledging They're All But Married (Sugar Daddy Guardian Angel 2.0): We hear of their bond from Cyclone and Penny; we see it in their texts. We see it at Ice's house.

There's That Picture Again, This Time In Ice's Study: Mav finally lets himself break in front of Ice, the literal only person he ever cries in front of. Ice is the only one who can truly break his defences down, get vulnerable truths out of him he would never discuss with anyone else. And Mav clearly doesn't want to bother Ice, with how sick he is, but all Ice ever had to do was ask, and Mav will give him whatever truth he wants.

Mav Giving Ice His Wings: Mav officiates Ice's funeral, and straight up gives him a piece of himself to keep for eternity. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

tl;dr I love these idiots and their love for each other right to the very fucking end.